Beauty and the Beast and Finn
by Paceismyhero
Summary: Tale as old as time / True as it can be / Barely even friends / Then somebody bends / Unexpectedly.    Just a little change / Small to say the least / Both a little scared / Neither one prepared / Beauty and the Beast.
1. Hi, My Name Is SEXY

**Author's Note:** This is a _CRAZY_ idea that melted my brain while I was mowing a couple weeks ago and I've now finally put onto "paper".

The summary gives a general direction of the plot, but what is important to know is that Rachel is the star in the Broadway musical _Beauty and the Beast_ and Puck is her new OB/GYN. It's mainly Puckleberry with other characters tossed in the mix, and rated M for all the right reasons. **It is COMPLETELY A/U, but entirely in character** (with the addition of some maturity given their ages).

There was something about the idea of Puck being an OB/GYN that I could NOT stop laughing about, so I seriously hope you guys enjoy this because it's quickly gotten out of control and basically taken over my life. With that in mind, I want to give a shout out to michaelfanfic, who I promised a prompt oneshot and I AM working on it. Hopefully it will be done sometime this week - but this just had to come out.

I am _SUPER_ nervous about posting it, though, since it is so A/U (even if it is the characters we know and love at the core), so please, _please_, _**please**_ let me know what you think. The first chapter is sort of just laying the groundwork for the story, but everything will be explained about their pasts and presents, etc. (since obviously they didn't go to high school together). I am in the midst of writing the third chapter as I type this, but if y'all hate it, then I'll just cry myself to sleep and try to forget about it. Haha. So, really, let me know!

**Disclaimer:** _Beauty and the Beast_ is no longer in production on Broadway, but that does not mean I owe it. All references to the plot, song lyrics, etc. within this story are private property, and I'm merely trespassing. Thanks!

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><p>Rachel walked confidently down the city streets, bobbing and weaving her small frame through the crowd of people to her left and right. New York was the city that never slept, but what no one mentioned was people weren't sleeping because they were too busy <em>walking<em>. It was the tail end of rush hour and wearing four inch heels was usually enough for Rachel to hail a cab, but she knew she'd just be sitting in traffic the whole time. And she refused to be late. Not just because she was Rachel Berry and punctual was just one of her many admirable character traits, but it had taken her forever to find a doctor's office that met her standards and would stay open past the normal nine to five hours. Besides, it was only one more block away, and the weather was finally nice again.

Spring had officially sprung, and sometimes Rachel could hardly contain her elation on her way to and from work. It didn't matter that she'd lived in the city for nearly twelve years. New York was her dream and everyday she was grateful that it had come true. Never once would she take the beauty of the city for granted, nor would she ever tire of seeing her name in lights (or just on the playbill of every night's showing). She'd only just stopped sending copies of them back home to her dads, but that had been a request more than her being ungrateful; her fathers had convinced her she wasn't being environmentally conscientious. It only took about a minute of their speech about all the poor, defenseless animals left without a home because the trees were being cut down for Rachel agree to stop.

Not _just_ stop, but officially join PETA and donate to the Rainforest Conservation Fund.

Rachel turned the corner onto W. 52nd Street, yanking open the glass door of the second building on her right. Like many buildings in New York City, the entrance simply led to another door, in this case an option on either side of her. She looked down at the business card in her hand, again noting the name of the doctor one of her castmates had recommended before turning right. She read the directory by the elevator and saw the office was on the second floor, so she made her way up the closest set of stairs, her eyes focused outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows until reaching the top. Flinging open another door, Rachel was greeted by a welcoming receptionist desk, and a clock that informed her she was precisely six minutes early.

"Ms. Berry, I pray?"

"Yes," Rachel answered merrily, setting her purse on the countertop as she took in the wary expression of the woman behind the desk. Her eyes drifted down in search of a name tag, but aside from the stethoscope hanging across the nurse's neck, there was only a paper sticker that said, "Hi, my name is BITCH" and Rachel wasn't comfortable with that title. "I have a six o'clock with a …" Rachel looked down at the card again, "Dr. Puckerman."

"You're the last patient today, so let's just move this along." The nurse gathered a clipboard and a few pieces of paper, disappearing out of sight only to reappear at a door to the left. She tilted her head in invitation for Rachel to enter, and she did simply because she was sure the Latina would hurt her otherwise. "I've got a hot date."

"Oh." Rachel blinked in surprise, the nurse's candid conversation catching her off guard. Her castmate had said the doctor was the best in the entire city, and Rachel hadn't thought to question her or the other five women that had chimed in. The office was only two blocks out of her way home, which meant it was also walking distance from the theater, and it had been the only place that was willing to work around her erratic schedule. Rachel supposed she could deal with an intimidating nurse for sheer convenience alone.

"Fill these out while I check your vitals."

"Of course." Rachel accepted the clipboard of forms, untangling the pen attached by a string and starting on the basic information as best she could while the nurse was taking her pulse and blood pressure. "I-I'm sorry about the late appointment. I appreciate your business accommodating my hectic schedule."

"I just work here," the Latina mumbled, grabbing the clipboard from Rachel's hands and writing the vitals on the sheet that had been on top. "What was the date of your last period?"

Rachel blushed. "Um, two weeks ago?" Rachel was normally so precise, but she was suddenly very uncomfortable. Her people skills had certainly improved since high school, but for some reason Rachel was having trouble relaxing in the presence of the nurse. There was something about her that put Rachel back in the mindset of a scared, fifteen-year-old girl standing in front of the head cheerleader. "I'm sorry, but, um, what is your name?"

"Santana." The nurse scribbled something on the form, looking up at Rachel with an almost cat-like grin. "You want my number, too?"

"Wha-uh. No, th-thank you," Rachel stumbled, her cheeks blushing again. Had she mentioned that she hated going to the doctor? "Just trying to put myself at ease."

"Well, I'd tell you to picture me in my underwear, but since I'm not wearing any that would be weird." It didn't seem possible, but Santana's smirk deepened. "Or incredibly hot." Rachel laughed nervously and the nurse just rolled her eyes, bending down to retrieve a gown from one of the cupboards and tossing it to Rachel. "Undress and put this on. The doctor will be in shortly."

Rachel just nodded, waiting until the door was completely closed before she even slipped out of her high-heel shoes. While unzipping her dress so the material would pool to her feet, she inhaled a deep breath and then exhaled, using the breathing exercises she'd learned for her career to calm her nerves there in the doctor's office. Unfortunately, just when she'd started to feel her heart rate return to its normal relaxed beat, the door flew open and she had about a nanosecond to use the gown in her hands to try to cover herself up.

"Excuse me!" She screeched, her eyes narrowing on the man in the white lab coat. "I wasn't finished."

"Sokay. I'm not lookin'."

Rachel's eyes were in slits, watching the doctor take a seat on the stool while reading Rachel's file. Her breath was lodged somewhere high in her throat, blocking the loud, long speech that had immediately sprung to her mind at how inconsiderate and _unprofessional_ he had been to barge into the room without even knocking. She thought better of actually saying it all, though, knowing his rebuttal would no doubt be that he was about to examine her most private areas and therefore modesty went out the window the second she walked into the office.

"My name is Dr. Puckerman." He extended his hand out toward her once she was securely inside the robe, smirking at her blushing cheeks. So, yeah, he totally was looking. Before she'd left for her date, Santana had told him the last patient had been worth the wait, and fuck if she wasn't telling the truth. High-strung, no doubt, but Puck was fairly certain he could figure out a few ways to loosen Ms. Berry up. "What brings you here today … Rachel?"

Rachel settled onto the patient's chair, the white paper covering the seat crackling with each new movement. She cleared her throat softly, looking at the doctor straight in the eyes. "I'm here for my annual examination, and then I also had some questions about fertility."

"It says here that you aren't married," he questioned, checking the form again just in case. Sometimes Santana would forget to mark certain things, which he'd actually been meaning to talk to her about. "Are you and your … boyfriend … trying to get pregnant?"

"Oh, no." Rachel shook her head, his attention focused more on the sway of her dark, wavy hair. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh," Puck grunted, noting his own damn bad luck. Figures. "Well there have been a lot of advancements in reproductive endocrinology recently. I can give you some pamphlets for you to take home so you and your partner can discuss your options and …"

"_I'm not gay_," she muttered in horror, instantly feeling bad. "Not that there is anything wrong with that lifestyle. I actually have two dads and my best friend is gay and he's even considering adoption with his significant other even though Blaine is sort of dragging his feet. I think he's worried about raising a child in the city, which of course can be a challenge. But sometimes challenges are good, making you reach your full potential and …"

Puck had stopped listening somewhere at the middle-ish beginning, his eyes glazing over as she babbled on and on about something or other. It didn't really matter that she was talking, though, because he was completely focused on her mouth. Her lips with pink and pouty, looking so smooth that he wanted to run his tongue over them just to see what she'd taste like. Berries, he thought comically.

"The point is, I'm not a lesbian," Rachel summed up, biting her lip self-consciously when the silence rang in the room. She had a tendency to ramble, and it only got worse when she was nervous. _And attracted_, her inner monologue pointed out despite how hard she wanted to ignore it. Her expectations had been quite high after her castmates had gone on and on about the doctor, and whether it was a good thing or not, he'd completely lived up to his end of the bargain. They hadn't been exaggerating at all by likening him to a Greek god, but they _had_, however, left out the fact that he was clearly quite presumptuous with a flair for rude.

"So, let me get this straight." Puck put his pen to the form, figuring he should write this down. "You aren't married." Rachel shook her head. "You don't have a boyfriend." Again, a quick sweep to the left and right. "And you aren't into girls." She glowered, but nodded negatively again. "But you want to discuss your fertility."

Rachel started to express her concerns about turning thirty this year and statistics she'd read in an article during her lunch hour at the theater about the correlation between age and infertility levels and … again, Puck stopped listening. She might be hot, but she talked way too damn much. Plus, she was obviously bat-shit crazy if she was planning on having kids before she was even dating anyone, male or otherwise. _Moreover_, Puck certainly wasn't down for banging a (crazy) chick who was hoping to make babies in the near future.

"I've just always been a take-charge kind of person and I'd rather be prepared for any situation beforehand, just in case," Rachel finished, sitting up straighter when the doctor stood from his stool. She'd been so surprised by his initial appearance that she hadn't really noticed his stature the first time, but she quickly made up for lost time. He looked taller than average, though people joked that everyone looked that way to her. His frame, however, was definitely more athletic than most men, his chest and shoulders broad and the rest of him looking toned and in shape.

"Well, let's take a peek at the plumbing and we can discuss what you'd like to do in terms of your fertility."

Rachel scoffed at his complete disregard for the medical jargon she'd come to expect, but lied down nonetheless. Her feet settled into the stirrups and she scooted her butt to the edge of the chair, looking up at the ceiling nervously when the doctor moved the bright light closer to where she was … on display. She held her breath and closed her eyes tight when she heard him rolling the stool between her legs, her hands wringing nervously on her stomach.

Puck settled back into the stool and held back a groan at the view in front of him. Seriously, he loved his job. If he'd gone into teaching music in high school like he'd started out and did this kind of stuff, well he would have been arrested by now. Instead, he got paid to finger chicks every weekday. And then, on the evenings and weekends, he just did it (and more) for fun.

"Cold," he warned before inserting the metal clamp into her center, keeping it open so he could take a swab for her pap smear. It couldn't be all fun and games. "Is there a history of infertility in your family?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered, half because his questions were coming from between her thighs and half because it was a sensitive subject. "I was adopted."

"Oh, right." Puck smirked gently as he poked his head up. "Two dads."

She nodded softly, finally exhaling the breath she'd been holding once he'd removed the clamp. She inhaled it right back in, though, when he stood and pressed two fingers inside of her. Her eyes had been focused on the ceiling, but they quickly fell down, her head tilting up slightly to regard him. He had this damn smile on his face that was completely negligent of his degree and his eyes were so smoldering that she couldn't bring herself to care.

"A little pressure," he explained quietly, using his other hand to press on her pelvic area. He watched her face as he checked her ovaries, typical as he looked for any sense of pain. But Rachel just continued to look nervous, so he moved his eyes back down to his left hand before letting the thumb of his right sweep across her clit. She jerked at the contact and he again had to hold back a moan. "Sorry."

Rachel inhaled a sharp breath, her lip sucked between her teeth and her eyes slamming shut. She was mortified and could feel her skin flushing under his scrutiny, which only made things worse. He'd think she was reacting favorably to his accidental slip when she was really just hoping a hole would form directly under her and swallow her whole. Things like this never happened to anyone else, only her. It was like high school all over again, when she'd been pouring her heart out on stage just to slip on the newly waxed floor.

"Alright, all set." Puck removed his gloves with a snap, tossing them in the biohazard bin on the counter and marking the test vials with the chart number Santana had written on Rachel's forms. Clicking the pen again to retract the point, he turned back toward her and took one step forward. "Arms up, please."

He again watched her reaction to him as he checked her breasts for lumps, moving his index and middle finger in small circles around the perimeter of her boobs and then over the nipple. As if he already couldn't tell from his sneak peek when he'd entered the room, Rachel's body was legit off the hook. He thought he heard her say something about a theater, which meant his fantasies about her being a dancer could quite possibly be true. That meant on top of a perfect pussy, amazing tits, and a taunt little body, she was also flexible and agile and … why were the perfect ones always so fucking crazy?

"So let's talk about your fertility concerns," he segued, moving her gown back to cover her breasts. He took a step back and leaned against the countertop, his arms crossing over his chest and his one leg hooking over his other. "There's nothing we can really do to guarantee you'll have a baby when you're ready to have one, but we can take some blood tests to at least rule out some complications."

Rachel nodded absently, her hands clutching at the fabric of the gown to keep it secure. "That would be acceptable."

"Great," he answered emptily, wondering why she couldn't just say 'OK' like everyone else. "Then we'll take it from there." He pushed himself away from the counter, gathering the forms and vials before pointing back toward the counter. "There's girly stuff over there if you need it. I'll be outside when you're done."

"Thank you," she responded, ignoring his amateur vocabulary for the feminine hygiene products on the counter and instead just waiting for the door to close before she moved to change. She did so quickly, half expecting him to interrupt her again. Unfortunately (Wait. No. Good thing) he didn't, and she collected her purse last before grabbing the handle and turning it down to open the door. Down the short hall, she saw him sitting behind the receptionist's desk where the nurse had originally greeted her. It was eerily quiet as she made her way back to the front, and she realized that he was probably the only one left in the building. "I'm sorry if I ruined your evening."

"No sweat." Puck tapped a few keys on the computer, inputting some of the last information that Santana had left for him before he pulled up the appointment page. "Do you always need late appointments?"

"It depends on the day." Rachel's embarrassment from before immediately faded as she thought about her work, her confidence shining through. "I'm the lead in a Broadway show and our schedule is quite demanding. I'm actually between sets right now." He looked uninterested, and some of her confidence deflated. "I have Mondays off, so that would probably be best so I don't feel so overwhelmed." She regarded him. "But I was told you don't work on Mondays, so I don't want to put you out anymore than I already have."

"I don't mind putting out," he smirked, looking up at her. She blushed and his smirk widened. Sometimes it was just too easy. "But I can't do Mondays. Nor am I the one who actually does the blood work."

"Oh, right. That's not what you get paid the big bucks for, right?" She tried to joke, internally debating if a civil conversation was plausible after he'd seen her naked and hadn't reciprocated. Not that she wanted to see him naked. Well, not that she _expected_ to see him naked. This wasn't that kind of facility, which was precisely why she'd chosen it. Rachel hadn't had much luck finding a nice doctor, but thanks to her theater friends she thought her luck might be changing.

"For future reference, or perhaps to jot down on my chart, I'm available anytime in the late mornings or early afternoons on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday."

Puck made note of her schedule in the system and also in his head, randomly wondering what she did with her free time. It was random because it wasn't followed with a thought about her doing _him_ in her free time, which was usually the case. Instead, he was genuinely curious, and that shit wasn't kosher. He definitely didn't want to waste time thinking about her taking a jog through Central Park when he could picture her bent over the side of his couch screaming his name.

"What cycle day are you on?" Rachel blinked at him absently and he sighed. Sometimes he hated his job. "When was the first day of your last period?"

Rachel looked down at the calendar he'd moved up to her level. She scanned the dates and her memory, pointing down at the squared off space from eleven days ago. Puck quickly did the math, and then looked back down at the computer. "I'll set up an appointment for next Friday at eleven for some blood work, and how about we do a follow up the week after … Friday at ten?" She nodded in the affirmative. "One of the tests next week is dependent on your cycle, so make sure to allot time in your busy schedule to come in, OK?"

"Yes, sir," Rachel rolled her eyes and then stopped, catching her smile before it could slip too far onto her face. She wasn't sure where the wave of comfortableness had come from, but she made sure to not let it slip into her next bit of dialogue. "I appreciate your dedication and understanding to my career."

Puck knitted his eyebrows together, extending the two appointment cards out to her and watching bemused as she fumbled with both the cards and her words. He'd caught a glimpse of what this woman might be like in normal circumstances, and what he'd saw he liked. This rambling, anxious, crazy person, however, left little to be desired. And that was saying something because he'd totally screwed his share of lunatics.

"It was a pleasure meeting you." She extended her hand out in front of herself, looking down at the appendage and waiting for him to respond to the gesture. He did so slowly, eventually curling his hand around hers and she tried not to gasp at the feel of his palm against hers. A jolt of electricity coursed through her, and she couldn't help but narrow her gaze on their union. She probably should have noticed when he'd been examining her breasts, but his fingers were callused just so that she could tell he played an instrument, and she guessed guitar without even knowing him.

"See ya later," he said, bypassing telling her it had been a pleasure meeting her _and_ whatever it was she was about to ask him about. Conversation with women was never a good idea, and that was especially true of women like her, who apparently loved the sound of her own voice. Still, seeing as how she was a paying customer, he made sure to hold up the door for her, leaning against the frame when she passed. He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she started toward the stairs, and he had to bite back saying something that he'd regret. Not that he ever regretted hitting on beautiful women, but he didn't want to practice to get sued. Again.

Rachel stopped midway between the second and first level, her legs shaking lightly underneath her. Knowing she'd have to get her bearings straight before leaving and heading back to the theater for the second show, Rachel moved to the side of the stairwell. She rested her hands against the railing, letting some of her weight rest on the cool metal while exhaling a breath. Her eyes opened and immediately honed in on the appointment cards still clutched in her hand. The day and time she was expected to come in was circled and filled in, the back of the card showing a list of doctors in the office with a check mark next to "Dr. Puckerman".

Everyone else had a first name listed but him, and even though she didn't know him at all, the rebellion of the omission seemed _so_ him. Even his nurse had been coy about her first name, Rachel recalling the sticker name tag she'd noticed on the Latina before asking her for her name. She hadn't done the same for Dr. Puckerman, however, so she could only assume what his name tag would say.

Hi, my name is SEXY.


	2. Beggars Can't Be Choosers

**Author's Note:** All I can say is "WOW!" Honestly, you guys are awesome, and I'm so, so, so happy you like this idea enough to give it a chance. Thank you times a million! While chapter one set the groundwork for the story, this chapter and the next are really just building the foundation. You'll get some more background on the characters and such, and hopefully fall in love with their more adult versions just as you did their high school versions in the real show. This story has taken over my life, so I'm plugging away writing chapters, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear what you all have to think. So, come on, don't make me beg. :)

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><p>Puck walked into the crowded bar with unprecedented swagger, the hoards of people parting like the Red Sea as he made his way back to their usual spot. Maybe it was a little gay that three grown men gathered every Friday night after work on a velvet sofa, but whatever. The beer was cheap, the music was awesome, and the greasy bar food really hit the spot after a long work week. Mike and Sam were already at the table, a pitcher of beer and three full glasses already set out when Puck slid into the seat.<p>

"You look like Hell," Sam shouted over the loud music, taking in Puck's appearance. "Did you come straight from the office?"

"No, these slacks really bring out the color of my eyes," Puck muttered loudly, grabbing the base of the full glass and gulping down half the beer inside. He caught his breath before chugging the other half, setting the now empty glass back on the table. "Have you ordered?"

Mike nodded. "Vanessa's working. She put in a bacon double cheeseburger just for you."

Puck rolled his eyes at the inflection in Mike's response, knowing what was coming next. Both Sam and Mike were married and had been basically forever. It was fucking pathetic, and yet for some reason it was Puck whose balls were busted the whole time. He gave as good as he got usually, but sometimes he just let them have their fun because, well fuck. Let's be honest. They certainly ain't having any other fun in their lives.

Mike Chang was a dance professor at Julliard and his wife, Tina, worked at Random House reading gothic novels or some shit. They had a sweet ass crib on the Upper East Side, big enough to house his entire Asian family when they came to visit from their Pennsylvania hometown but generally only housed Mike, Tina, and their little girl, Hanna. Puck had met Mike one night about five years ago at a bar closer to Mike's place. They'd just bought the apartment, actually, and Mike was getting plastered to drown out the sorrow of basically signing his life away to a bank. Puck had been goofing around on stage and noticed how fucking pathetic the Asian looked, so he dedicated the next song to the sad sack at the bar, moved to the keyboard set up on stage and started playing chopsticks. Mike's laugh echoed in the suddenly quiet bar and the two had been friends ever since.

The history with Sam Evans wasn't quite as happy-go-lucky, the two having their share of ups and downs since they'd met nearly twelve years ago. They'd been paired together as roommates at NYU since they'd both started as education majors on the football team. They'd had enough in common that living together didn't seem like it was going to be an issue, but eventually Sam got sick of Puck's lack of dedication to his schoolwork. Sam was attending college on a scholarship and needed to keep it. Puck, on the other hand, was planning on using the free ride he'd gotten for football to enjoy himself as much as possible until they kicked him out. He went to a party every night and usually came back with a girl, sometimes having the decency to have crazy, wild sex in his bedroom instead of the common area. But sometimes not.

It wasn't until Puck dragged Sam to one of the parties and they proceeded to drink their weight in tequila did the two really connect. In fact, that drunken night had been the catalyst to Puck changing his major from education to medicine, Sam loudly pointing out that he should be a pussy doctor since he liked vaginas so much. They still laughed about it to this day that it came true, if only because it was the only thing they could remember from that night without being immediately overcome with nausea.

Another down in their friendship, however, came during the summer before Sam's first year of teaching. He'd decided to stay in New York to be close to his girlfriend, Quinn, who had another year left before she graduated with a major in education, too. They'd had dreams of working together at the same school, getting married and raising a family and tons of other stuff Puck had no interest in. He'd simply put up with it because Sam not leaving meant he kept his roommate and therefore half of his money that would have had to go to rent. Since Puck still had three years left before he'd officially be a free man, he'd needed all the help he could get when it came to the finances.

Where he didn't need help, though, was in the companion category, which is why the two had a _huge _blowout when Sam had come home to find Quinn sprawled out naked across Puck's body. It was all a big misunderstanding – though, OK, maybe playing strip poker with your roommate and best friend's girl wasn't a good idea – but it took nearly two years before all the water was completely under the bridge. Now, Sam and Quinn were happily married, raising their perfect little boy, Samuel Jr. (who they called SJ) and their perfect baby girl, Lucy, in a perfect house in Brooklyn. How _perfectly_ boring.

"Bet that's not all she'd put in for you," Mike finally finished the joke after waggling his eyebrows for awhile.

"Been there, _done_ her," Puck responded quickly, grabbing the pitcher and refilling his glass. He usually got off work on Fridays early, but today's appointments seemed to go on forever, and then he'd had to finish all the paperwork he'd been putting off for the entire week. It was nothing he couldn't do – he'd made it through medical school by sheer will to earn some major coin just for fondling girls – but it had kept him in the office until well past eight in the evening. The beer would counteract his stomach's attempt to eat itself whole while they waited for the food.

"Since when has that stopped you?" Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, swallowing the large gulp he'd taken after the first part of his rousing. "You're going to have to start recycling chicks eventually. There can't be any new ones out there old enough to screw. And, please, make sure they're old enough."

Puck rolled his eyes, nursing his drink again while his mind wandered. The truth was, having sex every night with a different girl was becoming a challenge, not to mention getting kind of boring. Every girl had the same two moves and it was like he had a monogamous relationship with mediocre sex. Let's face it, he could only do so much and no amount of head thrashing and high-pitched chants toward God were going to turn his head anymore. Again, been there, done that.

What he needed was something different. Some_one_ different, and fuck his life, he couldn't help but wonder if the chick from earlier in the week had been just what he was looking for. Typically he didn't spend a lot of time thinking about his patients outside of the office; even those he fucked were more like an afterthought. But there was something about that chick, _Rachel_, that had crossed some wires in him. Bitch was crazy and talked incessantly, but her body had been banging and he couldn't stop thinking about all the wonderful, hot things they could do together.

"You OK, man?" Sam questioned, seeing how uncomfortable his friend had grown in the past minute or so. "You're like … breathing heavy."

"I'm cool," Puck lied, leaning back as the waitress came and placed plates in front of the three men. They all had their standard orders, and wasted no time digging right in. Puck had missed lunch because of some vagina emergency, and was well beyond the point of savoring his meal. Instead, he shoved the burger into his mouth, taking such a large bite that even Sam was surprised, which was a big fucking deal because the guy had a serious big mouth.

Mike tilted his head at Puck, chewing slowly before a shit-eating grin crossed his face. "It's a girl!"

"Where?"

"No, not _here_. Him!" Mike pointed to Puck, who was doing his best to avoid both of the people he was sitting with. "He's thinking about a girl."

Sam's head snapped to his left, evaluating Puck and practically pissing himself in excitement. "Dude!"

"Fuck, guys!" Puck spat, his mouth full as he yelled at them. "I deal with women all fuckin' day. Could you please locate your balls just for the night or are they _permanently_ in your wives' purses?"

"Oh yea. It's a girl."

Puck groaned as Sam and Mike continued to have a conversation about him, talking as if he weren't right there. And, actually, that was better. At least that way he could continue to eat in peace, toning them out entirely while thinking of a few good one-liners for when the inevitable questions started. He hadn't called Sam "Blondie" in a while, and Mike was definitely overdue for a racist joke.

"Is she pretty?"

"No, he's thinking about an ugly chick." Mike rolled his eyes, pushing his empty plate away. "This is still Puckerman. If he's obsessing about a girl, she's gotta be hot."

"I'm not obsessing about _anyone_," he commented even though they'd gone back to not acknowledging him.

"Brunette," Sam guessed, Mike again giving him a 'duh' look. "She must be smart, too, otherwise this conversation would be in the past tense."

"I bet she's tiny. He has a thing for petite women."

"And probably has a really unique name, like Cassandra or Jacquelyn."

"Her name's Rachel, so there." Puck's eyes closed tightly, their laser stares boring through him even though he wasn't looking.

"Ooh, _Rachel_," Sam taunted, nudging Puck's shoulder a few times before Puck forcefully pushed the blonde's hand away. "Where did you meet?"

Puck sighed, resting his elbows on the table. His napkin was crumbled in his left hand and he dropped it onto his plate and then leaned back into the plush cushion. He could just change the subject or even leave, maybe blame the music or at least get up to refill their pitcher of beer. But it wouldn't matter. He'd opened his mouth and basically inserted his foot. Now instead of swallowing his words, he had to swallow his pride.

"She's a new patient."

"Single?" Mike asked, ready to give the standard speech about Puck not being a homewrecker, but was pleased when Puck nodded his head. "Interested?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, smiling softly when the waitress took their plates away. Puck toyed with his glass, his voice only loud because of the band playing in the bar. "She's fuckin' crazy. Like, legit. And talks so damn much that I wanted to light myself on fire just so I wouldn't have to hear her anymore. And she's …"

"Sounds like she got under your skin," Sam teased, his smile widening so much that it looked like he had a hanger in his mouth. Dude's lips were so damn big he probably _could _fit one in there.

"It doesn't matter." Puck shook his head. "I just … I just need tap it to move on."

"And if that doesn't work?" Puck narrowed his eyes on Mike. Did they really have to go down this rode _every time_ they hung out lately? "Eventually one night isn't going to be enough. Then what?"

"Then I guess I'll kill myself." Puck dropped down a twenty and stood up out of the sofa seat. Mike and Sam both protested his exit, but he just huffed in response. "I'm beat, guys. Sorry. I'll catch ya later."

He walked out of the bar, tossing Vanessa a wave and nodding goodbye to the lead singer of the band playing. The three of them had been coming to this place for a couple of years now, so he pretty much knew all the guys who played for the bar. Sometimes he'd fool around with his guitar on stage or sit in for a sick band member, but he tried not to do it too often. Usually it led to people wanting him to perform on karaoke night, and he'd done a pretty good job at avoiding singing in public. In fact, the only people who knew he could actually sing were his mom, his little sister, Santana, and maybe a random girl or two he'd serenaded to get them into bed.

Turning down W. 53rd St., Puck pulled his cell phone from his pocket, going through the familiar screens until the device started to call Santana. It was relatively early for a Friday night, but it was also _Friday night_. While Puck had sort of a tradition of hanging out with the guys for at least a few hours, Santana used her weekends effectively. It was all about hitting up the clubs and bringing home an eligible bachelor. Or bachelorette. She wasn't picky.

Five rings later, Puck turned down 8th Avenue and smiled at Santana's greeting, "Absolutely not, Puckerman."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home in bed." Puck groaned appreciatively and he heard Santana sigh. "_Alone_."

"What are you wearin'?" He asked, turning down W. 52nd St. and approaching his apartment complex. The doorman for The Ellington waved at him happily and granted him access inside, Puck walking right to the elevator and hitting the up button. It dinged immediately and he stepped inside, catching the last part of her wordy, ticked off reply.

"… and frankly I don't do sloppy seconds."

"You were my first," he reminded her as he pressed the button for the penthouse, leaning against the back of the elevator as it rode all the way up to the top of the building. Santana and him might have worked together at the doctor's office, but he'd known her since middle school. They'd grown up in the same cow town in Ohio, so they understood each other on a completely different level. Not that they needed other levels of understanding. They were practically the same person, just he was male and she was female.

"But not the only." Santana sounded frustrated, and if he cared he'd ask why. "How's Trouty Mouth and Dancing Queen?"

"Girls as usual."

"They want you to marry Chatty Cathy instead of fuck her?"

Puck grinned, appreciative of Santana more at that moment than ever before. While he'd let Rachel's name slip into conversation tonight, Santana had called him out on his strange behavior yesterday at the office. It didn't take her long either to figure it had to do with a girl, her words being that he used the head of his dick to think more than his actual brain. So, obviously, anything that could distract him would have to be female.

"Basically."

Santana scoffed into the receiver and his grin widened. The elevator dinged when it reached the top floor, Puck stepping out and turning left. There were three penthouse suites, a lawyer in the one on the right and the middle one owned by some businessman who was rarely ever in town. It was probably for the best, though, as it made sex on the balcony a lot more appropriate when there was no worry of some balding, fat guy sitting on the next balcony over watching you get down and dirty. The thought alone was why Puck had chosen the suite with the floor plan that had two balconies, one that was completely secluded from all prying eyes. Except maybe a passing helicopter.

"Maybe both."

"You can't have your cake and eat it, too," Santana replied absently, Puck hearing her move the phone from one ear to the other. "But, I wouldn't listen to either of them. Misery loves company."

"It's hard to believe your bitterness after you showed up wasted on my doorstep cryin' about Sam being your one shot at true love."

Puck tossed his keys onto the mantel of the fireplace, the sharp pieces of metal landing with a clang as he turned and locked the front door. He moved past the kitchen and straight to his room, shucking off his shoes and dress shirt while walking through his bedroom and into the bathroom. He turned the water for the shower on and walked out, closing the door behind him so the room would fill with steam as he finished undressing.

"I'm pretty sure I paid you a substantial amount of money never to bring that up again."

"And I believe I asked for a different kind of bribe," Puck leered.

"Beggars can't be choosers."

"That's actually how blackmail works." He couldn't see her, but he knew she'd rolled her eyes before the loud yawn echoed in his ear. "You're getting old."

"Says Grandpa Puckerman, going through his nighttime routine before eleven. At least I'm ordering porn."

"Anything good?" He asked absently, hitting the area on his phone that switched the call to speaker phone. He set it down on his dresser and started to undo his slacks.

"Some girl on girl," she responded in disinterest. "There's some play on _Leave it to Beaver_ coming up next."

Puck chuckled at the thought, pulling his undershirt off his torso then over his head. Kicking the discarded clothes toward his closet but not actually in the hamper, Puck walked back to his dresser completely in the buff and grabbed the phone. Pressing it to his ear, he walked back to the bathroom. The mirror had already steamed up and he could feel the tension in his muscles start to loosen in response.

"So, not tonight?"

"Not ever again," she reminded lightly. "Especially _not _when I know you'll just be thinking about the midget the whole time."

"See ya Monday." Puck hit the end call button and tossed the phone onto the pile of towels stacked inside the small open linen closet. He stepped inside the shower stall, sighing as the hot water immediately filtered through his body. Puck ran his hands over his buzzed scalp and then let his head hang loosely, the water spraying against his neck and shoulders in a rhythmic, therapeutic fashion. The hot water dripped down his back, and oddly enough the feeling reminded him of how he'd felt earlier in the week when he'd been with Rachel.

She had extended her hand out after saying thank you and goodbye, and the second he'd reciprocated the gesture, a sharp, warm feeling coursed through him. It started at the nape of his neck and shot down his spine at an alarming rate, the electricity spreading throughout all his extremities just like the hot water had been doing just then. With his eyes closed he could picture that she was there with him, naked and wet, and also in the shower. He'd steam up the bathroom with her even without the water on, letting her use that voice of hers she seemed so fond of to scream his name.

Puck groaned, his eyes opening and focusing on his raging hard on. He growled in response, wishing he could think about Rachel without getting an erection. Or, even better, wishing he could _stop_ thinking about the annoying broad in the first place. Then he wouldn't have to worry about Mike or Sam planning his fucking wedding, and he could finish a workday without comparing his patients' files to hers. And, just maybe, be focused enough that he could pick up a girl who wasn't crazy and take her home. But, no. Instead he was alone in his shower early on a Friday night, beating off with images of her olive skin scorched in front of his closed eyes.

Maybe Santana was right. Maybe he just needed to fuck her out of his system.


	3. Dust Away the Cobwebs

**Author's Note:** So the response to chapter 2 wasn't as good as chapter 1, but hopefully you guys are just sad about the lack of Rachel/Puck interaction and not thinking the story is sucky. Unfortunately there's nothing in this one, either, but I promise there will be plenty of Puckleberry in chapter 4 (and then beyond!). This chapter is a little short, but I wanted to post because 1) I probably won't again until at least Monday and 2) I wanted to AGAIN point out that this is NOT a slash fic. When I said "Puckleberry Finn" I was talking about a love triangle. That is it! Hopefully I didn't lose anyone because of that.

Anywoo, thank you so much for the reviews. They definitely alter my mood, so leave lots of glowing feedback and good things can happen in the story ... I'm just sayin'. ;)

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><p>Rachel walked into the back entrance of The Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, a carrying case holding four different specialty drinks from Starbucks balanced in her one hand as the other struggled with the heavy metal door. It closed behind her with a loud clang, the force of it creating a breeze that kicked up her skirt a little bit. Over the short, portable clothes rack, Rachel could see Kurt in the middle of a conversation with one of the other cast members, so she simply caught his attention, showed him the cup, and set it down on a nearby table. He mouthed his gratitude and she accepted in kind before moving on.<p>

Everyone was preparing for the show that was set to start in a little more than an hour, which explained why Rachel was able to walk basically from the back entrance/exit all the way to her dressing room without stopping even once. Typically she was bombarded with questions and demands from at least a handful of people. _Beauty and the Beast _was one of the longest-running shows on Broadway so the production was a well-oiled machine. The people, however, were hit and miss on any given day, and Rachel used her seniority often to pull rank when things got out of hand. She played Belle on stage and was an essential part of the show. If she wasn't happy, no one was happy.

Walking into her dressing room, Rachel placed the carrying case down on her vanity and tossed her purse onto the loveseat to her side before sitting at the stool in front of the mirror. She'd planned on taking one of the cups to her understudy, Erin, and pump her for information about Dr. Puckerman, but in maybe the first time ever the young girl was not right on Rachel's heels. In fact, she was no where to be found, which was unsettling for many reasons, but inconvenient because Erin had been the one who'd recommended his office in the first place. Even though Rachel had thought she'd heard enough about Erin's reasons and the other women's reasons why, she was now a bit more curious after she'd met him.

"Hey, girl. Did I see a cup in that thing for me?"

Rachel looked at her friend Mercedes through the mirror, smiling and nodding as the black woman entered the room. Mercedes Jones played Mrs. Potts in the musical, and had for almost two years. The two hadn't immediately hit it off, basically because they both had such strong personalities, but their shared admiration for the other's talent eventually turned into respect and later friendship. Much like Rachel, once you got past the harsh exterior, Mercedes was a lovely young woman who simply knew what she wanted and went after it. She came from a small town in Mississippi, the oldest of seven other kids; basically Rachel's polar opposite, but somehow the two complemented each other perfectly.

Rachel leaned forward and twisted the cup marked "M" out of the holder, holding it out for her. While Rachel had ordered her standard cup of hot, decaffeinated green tea with honey, lemon, and ginseng, Mercedes demanded a tall, light caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso. She said the stickiness of the caramel gave her voice more texture, but Rachel never believed her. She wanted her throat to be clean and clear before getting up on that stage to perform.

"Mercedes, you were one of the people who'd recommended Dr. Puckerman to me, weren't you?"

"Mmmmhhhmm," she answered while taking a seat on Rachel's plush loveseat, her feet rising to the other side as she lounged more comfortably. "Did you go? He's crazy good looking, right?"

"He … I … yes, I went," she stumbled over her response, and Mercedes lifted one eyebrow questionably. "He was quite attractive."

"I typically need a little more mocha in my coffee, but white bread was fiiiiiiiiiiiiine."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the way Mercedes drew out the last word, turning in the stool to face her friend head on. "Do you know his name? It wasn't on his card."

"His card? You were looking at his _card_?" Mercedes pressed her palm to her forehead, shaking her head lightly. "Girl, it's no wonder you don't have a boyfriend."

Rachel scoffed lightly, used to the teasing. "I don't have a boyfriend because I don't have the time for a relationship."

"Women like you only say things like that because you have trouble thinking about anyone but yourself." Rachel scoffed at the analysis, but couldn't form a proper rebuttal as Mercedes went right into her next point. "Which is precisely why Doctor Love is the best solution. My guess is between his demanding schedule as a doctor and all the time you _know_ he has to spend at the gym, homeboy probably only has a few hours a free time, which might be exactly what you need."

"What does that mean?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes at Rachel over the rim of her cup, swallowing slowly and licking her lips before responding. "It means you've been working that tight, little ass of yours off for the past two years without stopping to breathe let alone have fun. And since I know you won't actually take the time to date anyone, maybe someone who definitely doesn't look like the girlfriend type is just your cup of tea."

Rachel looked blankly at her friend, wondering many things all at once. The first was a throwaway thought, a quick rebuttal that her _cup of tea_ was actually in her hand. The next were similarly insignificant, ranging from the little ass comment to correcting Mercedes' slip of saying it had only been two years that she's been working – she'd been dreaming of starring on Broadway since she was two years old. All of those thoughts, however, lowered in importance to just one. Was she really that easy to read?

"Are you implying I should …"

"She wants you to dust away the cobwebs," Kurt summarized, entering the room and the conversation simultaneously.

"Put sex back in the lineup," Mercedes clarified.

"Okay. That's enough." Rachel blushed profusely, but Kurt and Mercedes made no motion to leave. In fact, Kurt took a seat in the overstuffed chair beside the loveseat, crossing his legs while taking a ginger sip of his iced chai tea that Rachel had gotten him. She met Kurt Hummel three years ago when he'd started working as the costume designer for the musical. He'd come right into her dressing room and after getting her measurements proceeded to explain to her everything she was doing wrong in her everyday wardrobe. She'd been taken aback, of course, and had a few (alright, a lot) of choice words ready to fire back at him, but then he did this thing with her hair and … it looked amazing. After that he took her to Bryant Park for a real New York fashion show and he'd sort of been her style guru ever since. He'd graduated from The Parson's School of Design and lived in trendy SoHo with his partner Blaine, who she was also quite close with now, too. He worked as an advertising executive at some major corporation; that's actually how the two met – five or so years ago now. Both men were extremely talented vocally and she'd been trying to convince them to at least audition for the musical, but they'd both assured her that singing wasn't their passion like it was hers.

Rachel cleared her throat softly, inhaling a breath and hopefully some courage, too. "Let's say I _did_ want to entertain the idea of Dr. Puckerman and I sharing a meal …"

"And bodily fluids," Kurt chimed in cheekily.

"How would I even approach him about such a thing?" She continued without pause, then added on a whisper, "He's seen my _flower_."

"Ah Hell to the no." Mercedes was up out of the loveseat in a flash, her head shaking and one hand moving around like it had a mind of its own. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."

Mercedes walked out of the room, leaving just Rachel and Kurt staring at the closing door. A few moments of silence passed and Rachel wondered if Kurt was going to let it all pass and move on or interrogate her. Knowing her friend, it was definitely more likely to be the latter. But, there was a small sliver of hope that he'd leave her in peace seeing as how she usually spent this time resting her voice. Kurt opened his mouth to speak, though, and she realized he didn't care about her routine.

"Just ask him out to lunch after your appointment in a few days," Kurt advised softly, taking off the snarky hat and putting on his friendlier, supportive one. "He'd be a moron not to want to spend time with you." Rachel beamed at the compliment. "And, if he is in fact a moron, he isn't the only option. Guess who is officially moving to New York?"

"Taye Diggs?" Rachel asked excited, literally moving to the edge of her chair.

"No. God, I wish," he sighed dreamily, momentarily lost in what was no doubt some impure thoughts. "Now the news seems like a letdown, but the answer is my stepbrother, Finn. He's taking over teaching for some lady going on maternity leave."

"That's incredible." She'd heard Kurt talk about his stepbrother randomly in conversations over the years, but she'd never met the gentleman in question, which suddenly struck her as odd. "Why is he moving to New York to teach almost at the end of the school year?"

"He's been in Brazil for the past three years working for Teachers Without Borders." Rachel's eyes lit up even though she frowned slightly. Suddenly her donations to select organizations didn't seem as charitable when compared to such a noble cause. "He's lucky he found a job at all or he'd be spending his summer working at my dad's garage. Instead, he'll be moving here in two weeks."

"Well, he sounds lovely." Rachel blushed lightly, wondering if that sounded a bit too obvious. While Kurt had been the one to insinuate that perhaps Finn and Rachel would hit it off, she still felt weird about being set up with someone. "Are you two quite similar or no?"

"Not. At. All." Kurt laughed, and in the humor Rachel could see that he'd missed Finn through the years. It was endearing. "He was the star quarterback at our school, which isn't particularly impressive because there were like, a hundred kids in our graduating class. But, he's your basic All-American boy. Super tall, clean cut, bumbling in a cute way."

"Will I get to meet him?" She asked a little more excitedly then she wanted it to come out. What happened to not having a time for a boyfriend? Now she was contemplating dating _two _men?

"He's actually coming to the show next Friday. We should all hang out afterward." Kurt smirked, adding, "You know, if you aren't already tongue-deep in Dr. PuckerLips."

"It's time for you to leave," Rachel deadpanned, but was completely serious. "I have to prepare for my show."

"It's my show, too."

Rachel smiled. "Of course."

She waved politely at Kurt before he walked out of her dressing room. If she really didn't think about anyone other than herself like Mercedes had said, she would have told Kurt that while his involvement was critical to the show's success, it wasn't _dependent_ on it like hers was. She was the star. She lived and _breathed_ this musical, selling out seats _months_ in advance.

And, in that capacity, perhaps Mercedes was right. Maybe Rachel _had_ earned a break, deserved a chance to have a good time outside the theater walls. It had always been her dream to star on Broadway, but she'd also dreamed of balancing that life with one of a more personal nature. Like any woman, Rachel wanted to be able to come home and share her success with someone. She craved the security that she knew could come from being in a relationship, and she wasn't going to be able to find it if she didn't even bother to date anyone.

Not that she hadn't had a boyfriend before. She'd dated a few boys in college, and had been serious with one of them. Jesse. He was in the theater program like her, a natural performer. They had so much in common that the two had been able to finish each other's sentences even during that first meeting. It hadn't been in a class or even on the campus, but rather at a local music store. She'd been searching for a song to perform for one of her assignments, and he'd appeared like a phantom. They'd ended up performing a duet right there in the store, and continued to make beautiful music together for about a year after that.

When they'd broken up, Rachel had been devastated. He'd chosen a role for a traveling theater group over their relationship, and didn't look back. At least not for another year, when he showed back up in New York and claimed to still love her. And she'd taken him back. Rachel had done her best to live her life without regrets, but that had certainly been one of them. She'd been lonely and had just been rejected for a role in a community play, and she was vulnerable. Jesse had swept in and made her feel pretty again, loved, talented. The next time they broke up, she'd been doubly crushed, but had then learned that she had to count on herself to make things right. Just like in her career, she needed to take charge and pick herself up. So the next time he came crawling back, two years ago, she was confident enough to politely decline.

And, see, that was just more evidence that she thought about other people than just herself. Because if she didn't, she wouldn't have _politely_ _declined_ but rather pointedly told Jesse that he was far too inferior to have such a big head. _Plus_ now she was thinking about two other people, both of whom she didn't really know. Perhaps that would change once Finn moved into town, but the thing with Dr. Puckerman was entirely up to her. She was still on the fence about whether she wanted to pursue anything with him, though, as his behavior had been quite on and off that day. While he was clearly intelligent given his profession and there was no question that he was brutally hot, he did seem a little rough around the edges, which wasn't exactly the type of man Rachel usually dated. There were hot theater guys, yes, but they were usually gay or at least as equally high-maintenance as herself.

Dr. Puckerman was very much the opposite. He was the antithesis of what she normally dated, a brute of sorts. Rachel could tell he got by on his looks and charm. He seemed funny, though, and there had been that moment of extreme comfortableness that had taken her off guard. If talking to him could come so naturally, perhaps the other stuff could too.

And, like Mercedes said, maybe that's just what she needed.


	4. Rockets in Flight

**Author's Note:** OK. My weekend was NOT great, so I'm updating today because 1) I said I would and 2) I'm hoping y'all will cheer me up. This is pretty much the first chapter of (I'm going to say it) too much Puckleberry interaction in a row. LOL. That being said, I hope you all enjoy and, like I said, let me know what you think! Thanks!

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><p>Puck stepped out of the examination room, closing the folder to the patient's chart after scribbling down a few notes on the top sheet. Meandering to the receptionist's desk, he leaned far over the top counter and smiled charmingly at the woman sitting in front of them. She tried to appear stern, but eventually her scowl gave up to a smile, the woman begrudgingly grabbing the chart from Puck's grasp and rolling her eyes in response to his resulting chuckle. He tossed her a wink before grabbing the next file, noting the appointment time in comparison to the clock on the wall.<p>

It was nearly eleven thirty and they were three patients back. It was typical for a Friday, and yet the whole thing caused him to sigh anyway. If last week had been long, then this week had been _extremely _long. He'd done everything in his power to make it go quicker – went to the synagogue on Saturday, worked out on Sunday, taught his guitar lessons on Monday not to mention stayed busy at the office all week. But nothing did the trick. Every time he felt himself relax, every time his mind had even a _second _to wander, it immediately went to Rachel. Her tanned skin, her long legs, her small but curvy frame. The way her skin flushed after one of his crude jokes, the way she reacted to his slip against her clit, the way her breath hitched when he'd massaged her subtle chest. How she'd swayed her hips, how she'd watched his every move, how her voice had held so many different emotions.

"You might not wanna do that," Santana said as she approached the receptionist's desk, her head nodding toward the chart in his hand.

"There's a line in the lobby that probably wouldn't agree with you."

"Yea, well, there's a certain tiny brunette in the lab waiting to have her blood drawn that I'm pretty sure you'd rather see first." Puck stopped dead in his tracks, even his brain completely derailing. It was _Friday_. He'd made the appointment and he'd still completely forgotten. "She asked me how my date was, then seemed shocked when I couldn't remember the guy's name."

"She doesn't know you like I do, San." Puck grinned, changing his direction from the hallway toward the lobby back toward the lab area. "Which is good, because I'm sick of us competing for chicks."

"I think this one's all yours." Santana picked at her nails as they moved through the office. "Totally fine, anyway. I like the strong, silent type."

"Like me."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Like my vibrator."

Puck shoved the Latina away from him, taking the last hallway toward the lab before casually walking inside. There were a few people waiting, Rachel stuck in the middle between a rather overweight woman and another lady old enough to be her grandmother. She was staring down at her cell phone intently, and the technician had noticed him before Rachel did.

"Hey, Puck," she greeted casually, her smile wide and flirtatious. Puck would have reciprocated the gesture, but he was too busy watching Rachel's reaction. Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with him. He swore he could see her pupils dilate all the way from his spot by the doorway, and he grinned before finally moving to look at the lab tech. "Did you need something?"

"Nope." He leaned his shoulder against the right of the doorframe while his feet crossed at his left side. "Just checking in."

Rachel blinked and just continued to stare at him, her head eventually moving back and forth between Puck (that couldn't be his real name, could it?) and the phlebotomist as if it were a tennis match. The two volleyed back and forth about nothing at all, and it took a minute for her to realize what was happening but then the young woman giggled and Rachel couldn't help but roll her eyes. She was _flirting_ with the doctor. There were three people waiting to have their blood drawn, and she had the nerve to hold everything up because of her hormones?

"Uh, excuse me." Rachel stood up, approaching the lab technician. "How much longer is this going to take?"

The young woman snorted in response. "Please be patient, ma'am."

"Miss," Puck corrected quickly, moving his gaze to Rachel. "Miss Berry, in fact."

"Good morning, Dr. Puckerman."

She sounded so professional, and it bugged him. He wanted her to be more … breathy. Desperate. At least give some indication that she'd been obsessing (in a good way) about him since the second she left last week. You know, like _he_ had been about her.

"Wait." The overweight woman waiting in line interrupted his thoughts, demanding their attention with the force of her words. "Miss _Rachel_ Berry? As in Belle in the Broadway musical of _Beauty and the Beast_?"

Rachel beamed at the recognition, her body angling away from Puck and turning toward the line of plastic chairs. "Yes. Have you seen the show?"

"Like _three_ times!" The woman gushed. "You're absolutely amazing. Unbelievable, even."

"Oh, thank you very much." Rachel had always been grateful for recognition, but Julliard really taught her how to be humble, too. It had also taught her quite a bit about humility, the lesson of what goes up must come down learned the hard way more than once. "Would you like an autograph?"

The woman made a noise that wasn't really a yes but clearly was at the same time. She fumbled around her oversized purse and managed to find something decent enough for Rachel to write on, but after a half minute or so of digging, she failed to find a pen. Puck grabbed one out of his coat pocket and clicked it a few times in presentation, the woman sighing so heavily in relief that he couldn't help but chuckle. Rachel signed her name with ease, then handed the pen back to Puck with a shy smile. A second later, the lab technician took away the woman, who proceeded to tell her all about the musical even though no one asked.

"Seems you have a following."

"I could say the same for you," she answered back, testing the waters. "Although I'm sure it's not an autograph Paige is after."

Paige? Was that the lab chick's name? He didn't know. "Just what do you think she's after?"

Rachel blushed, her eyes falling down and therefore trailing over his body. She wasn't a doctor, but she was pretty sure she could create quite a lengthy list of all the different body parts that could answer that question. She didn't know Paige, but she was fairly certain which part would be listed number one. Just thinking it caused the red of her embarrassment to creep up her neck and onto her ears.

"You know," she began, clearing her throat and trying to insert the practiced professionalism she knew was somewhere deep inside her. "As a facility that caters almost entirely to females, you should be more careful about situations where your patients are left alone with you or the other male doctors. My fathers are lawyers and I think they would agree that it is a bit worse than unprofessional."

Puck tilted his head to the side, evaluating her while mentally skimming through the important words of her argument. He'd been transfixed on the way her mouth moved again, noting a hint of sheen that he couldn't help but wish was some flavored lip gloss. Typically he hated that goop women put on their face, but there was something incredibly sexy about his fantasy of Rachel _actually _tasting like berries that worked him up.

"The nurse would have stayed in the room, but I told her she could leave. You don't strike me as the type of chick who needs taken care of." He played to her sense of independence, but then noted they were once again left alone. Had the lab chick come back? Where'd the old lady go? "Why?" He asked smoothly, a small smirk starting to form on his face as he put the chart he'd been holding down on the counter and leaned his hand into it. "Do you have a problem with being alone in a room with me?"

Rachel flushed, rendered speechless from the intensity of his gaze. She'd noticed the way he subtly invaded her space, and like some bizarre gravitational pull, she felt drawn to him. She took two slow steps closer - within arms' reach - and then stopped, her breath hitching in response to his proximity.

"I-I …" She started and stalled two more times before finally getting out the lines she'd been practicing since after talking to Kurt and Mercedes earlier in the week. "I don't know if you get a lunch, but would you be interested in sharing a meal with me?"

Puck had to literally shake himself out of the lustful haze he'd been under, his temperature only falling back down to normal after she'd taken one graceful step back. She was talking a mile a minute about some restaurant that was apparently close and came highly recommended by her cast mates. It was fairly priced and she'd figured they could either meet there or go together or … and then she trailed off. She looked nervous, kind of like she had last week when she'd been rambling on about the merits of homosexuality, and he once again had a strong urge to put her at ease.

"Sure," he answered, letting his smirk widen. "I like eating out." She blushed in response, and he figured step one was locked in. "But I was actually going to eat lunch at home today."

Puck watched her face fall, not a lot but she was apparently an actress of sorts, so he figured she was pretty good at hiding her emotions. At least he hoped that was the case. He already thought she was crazy, and she sort of looked like the type of chick that would freak out at just the thought of casual sex. But, whatever. He couldn't stop thinking about her, so he was just going to have to take that risk. Hit it and quit it.

"You could have lunch with me there." He noted her hesitation, and quickly added, "You know, if you think you can handle being alone with me."

Rachel scoffed at the challenge, her eyes narrowing on him. She was Rachel Berry and she _never_ backed down from a challenge. "That sounds lovely!"

"Good," he grinned, picking the chart back up. "Let me finish up with this one patient and I'll meet you outside after your blood work."

Rachel nodded in acceptance, and then like a flash he was gone. She spent the next twenty minutes over-analyzing the whole thing, replaying the conversation in her head so many times that she worried she'd accidentally mess up her lines later during the musical. But, before she could change her mind, she found herself walking alongside him down the stairs and outside.

"Where do you live?" She asked as breezily as she could, trying to appear nonchalant even though she could hear her heart thundering in her chest.

"Right down the road." Puck pointed right and they both started walking. He watched the way she moved through the corner of his eye, forcing at least half his brain to focus on her words while allowing the other half to ogle. She was again wearing a simple blouse matched with a short skirt, her heels today a little more modest than the ones from last week. Santana was right; Rachel was shockingly small for her age.

"Besides," she continued, knowing she was rambling but preferring it over the awkward silence that she thought would for sure accompany their walk. "It's hard to beat the convenience of living in a nice place that's so close to work." Rachel smiled brightly at the doorman of Puck's apartment complex, walking inside and starting toward the stairs.

"Not a good idea."

"Oh, don't be silly." Rachel dismissed his hesitance with a wave, starting again toward the stairwell. She heard Puck sigh behind her and follow, and she smiled. "You look like you're in shape. A little exercise is good for you."

"I prefer other methods."

"Well … I … um …" Rachel stumbled over her words, but luckily not the stairs. "I'm an avid supporter of fitness. I used to get up every morning at six and have a protein shake and then I'd spend an hour on the elliptical. I felt it really started the day out well." Reaching the flat level of another floor, Rachel looked behind her at Puck. "On what floor do you live?"

"The penthouse." He smirked watching her eyes widen and her throat move as she swallowed thickly. "So, just about forty more flights." He chuckled when her eyes lifted up, widening even more as she considered the trek. "I don't exactly have two hours for lunch, so maybe we could take the elevator up the rest of the way, huh?"

Rachel nodded bashfully, following him through the doorway and then into the elevator. She kept completely quiet as he hit the button for the penthouse, the doors closing at the same time that he settled next to her. She inhaled a shaky breath, her mind wandering back to the moment in the lab. She didn't have a problem being alone with him. She'd been alone with attractive men before and hadn't wanted to maul them, but … well, that just wasn't the case with Dr. Puckerman. And being alone with him in an eight-by-eight foot square was _really_ a problem.

Now she couldn't just feel the heat radiating off of him, or see the intensity in his eyes, but he was so close that it was like he surrounded her. He smelled like the ocean, which made no sense but was the only way to describe the fresh, pure scent wafting around her brain. Somewhere between floor twenty and twenty two, he'd stepped closer, and then she also go a whiff of a scent she'd expected. Soap and a hint of something masculine. She felt her pores absorb it, her heart racing in response to its intrusion in her bloodstream.

Puck had previously decided to wait for Rachel to make the first move; he liked the women to initiate things 1) because it was hot, and 2) because then they couldn't blame him for anything when he got up and left or told them to leave. But, standing next to Rachel, her head tilted up and eyes boring into his, all his preconceived plans went right out the window. A crazy mix of honey and strawberries clouded his brain and before he knew what was happening, he'd kissed her. Shit. She tasted like cherries.

Rachel had been surprised by the sudden contact, but that didn't stop her from reacting to the embrace. Her lips melded against his, and a soft moan escaped when she felt his tongue run across her bottom lip. He pushed her back against the elevator wall roughly, the ascent of the device offsetting the feeling of her heart fluttering in her chest. Puck's hands were braced on either side of her, and she felt hers lift on their own volition, settling for grasping the fabric of his dress shirt tightly.

Puck's abs clenched in response to her hands' proximity, the tension in his arms slacking as he pushed his body even more into hers. He groaned at the way she seemingly molded to his body, the strange jolt of electricity he'd felt last week again ripping through him as he pulled his lips off hers to catch his breath. He breathed through his nose as his lips moved to dance over the sensitive skin of her jaw and then neck, a satisfied smile spreading when he heard her whimper in pleasure when he tugged on her earlobe.

The elevator dinged once it reached the top floor, and even though she had no idea where they were going, Rachel used her hands' position clutched at his shirt to pull him out. He responded by then pushing her in the right direction, the two going back and forth as such until they stumbled to his apartment, then inside, and then all the way to his bedroom. They landed on the soft mattress in a heap of tangled limbs, their lips managing to somehow stay attached through all the chaos.

"You're so fuckin' hot," he growled, leaving her mouth to again trail his lips elsewhere.

Typically Rachel didn't approve of such language, or even crass comments, but this entire situation wasn't typical. She'd never once slept with someone on the first date, and Rachel wasn't even sure this could be classified as such. Maybe if they'd had lunch _first_, but … regardless, she had no intention of stopping. If anything, his encouraging words made her want this to happen even more. Crudeness aside, the passion of his actions and the want in his voice set her on fire.

She was a passionate person and had always been looking for that same spark in relationships but had never found it. Everyone she'd even been with had been nice, and her needs had certainly been met, but she'd never felt that raw emotion of lust before. She'd never been somewhere and needed to, no matter what else was going on, have that other person. And that's what she wanted. She wanted to _need_ someone, and wanted to _be_ needed. Be _craved_.

By Puck.

"Please," she whispered, her hands finally strong enough to lift from her sides and undo the buttons of his shirt. She slipped them underneath and over his chest, and then let them wander down to his slacks. He rocked his hips against hers in response and she let out another soft plea. This one he obeyed, lifting up her shirt enough that he could fondle her breasts.

Puck bent down and ran his tongue over the center of her flat stomach, starting at her bellybutton and finishing when he reached her bra-covered chest. He nipped at the subtle mound of flesh peeking out over the lacey cup, his eyes slamming shut when Rachel lifted her hips into his in response. His head slacked to her shoulder when she moved her hands from his belt buckle to inside his pants, her small hands like magic on his incredibly hard length.

"F-fuck, baby."

Rachel nodded her head in agreement, as if she knew what he was asking in that remark that most certainly wasn't a question. "Condom," she managed to mutter, a soft pout involuntarily leaving her lips when he'd pulled away to reach inside his bedside table. She watched intently as he ripped open the wrapper, Puck just moving his pants and boxers enough to free his erection before rolling the prophylactic over his dick. She bit her lip when he made his way back between her legs, her lips curling up into a smile when he reached inside her skirt and pulled her panties off. He tossed them aside and kissed his way down her leg and up her torso before he was positioned just right.

Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before they met one another in the middle, a strangled moan coming low from each of their throats. Puck pulled all the way out and then slammed back into her, eventually moving to a slower but still fast pace. There hadn't been much physical foreplay, but thinking of this very moment for the past ten days or so had both of them already very close to the edge. All Rachel had to do was lift one of her legs up to wrap around his hip, and then the friction alone catapulted her into oblivion.

She came undone loudly, and the vision of it pushed Puck into the stratosphere along with her. He managed three more long, powerful thrusts before collapsing onto her body. He quickly pushed himself off and over to her side, both of them struggling for air enough as it was without his weight bearing down on her. The stars eventually cleared and he slowly turned his head to the left. He watched her chest rise and fall erratically, her eyes eventually fluttering open and moving from staring at the ceiling to looking over at him.

It made no sense considering what had just transpired, but Rachel found herself blushing under his gaze. Aside from their clothing being a little askew and her panties on the floor somewhere, they were both fully clothed. But, at that moment, she never felt more exposed in her life. She had just shared what she'd always considered to be something very intimate and sacred with someone whose name she'd _just _learned – and she was still fairly sure it wasn't his _real_ name. But, like that slip of comfortableness she'd felt at her appointment last week, she'd felt it again throughout their entire interaction. And, more than that, she just felt _different_ with him.

"So much for lunch," he muttered, chuckling into a groan when he finally made a move to get up.

"That's alright." Rachel bit her lip, still thinking about how she felt different with him. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she'd decided. Because even though she didn't recognize her voice at that moment or really even the person saying the words, she _liked_ this new her. "I quite enjoyed the substitute."


	5. Amazing Performance

**Author's Note:** You guys are hysterical with your feedback. I'm glad y'all like the story, and I hope it continues to live up to your demands/expectations. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Special thanks to Jann for helping ease my mind about the ending. You rock, sista-friend. :)

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><p>Puck turned the corner and cut it too close, his shoulder knocking against the one wall and the folders and papers he'd been holding spilling out of his hands. He sighed, looking up in exasperation before bending down and starting to gather everything back into one neat pile. He'd re-organize it later. Right now he really just needed to get out of the office and get drunk. Not only was he trying to run away from his brain, but Quinn and Tina would be at the bar, so that was always reason enough for him to get wasted. Alcohol made everything better.<p>

"You coming or what?" Santana asked impatiently, tapping her foot while watching him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You could help."

"I'm off duty," she replied quickly, pulling her compact from her purse and checking her makeup and teeth. "Besides, I didn't drop them."

Puck sighed deeply, picking up the last stray paper before lifting himself back to a standing position. He walked down the hall and into his office, Santana following close behind. He threw the folder of papers onto his desk, turned off his computer, and grabbed his keys. Moving back around his desk in preparation to leave, Puck tripped and just barely caught himself, Santana cackling in response.

"What the Hell is your problem?" She lifted one perfectly groomed eyebrow up in amusement. "You were walking on water when you got back from lunch and now you're like a fish on land." Puck didn't seem amused, and that was answer enough for someone who'd known him as long as she had. "You slipped out for a nooner with the midget!"

"It was more like 12:30," he answered vaguely, locking up the office once they were both outside the main entrance.

"How did I not hear about this already?"

She genuinely sounded pissed, which wasn't good for him. She had a Latin temper, and would stop at nothing to make your life Hell if you crossed her. He might not always agree with her or even _like_ her, but Puck knew it was far better to be on Santana's good side than her bad side. Plus, she was joining him at the bar tonight, which meant he'd have to deal with her for at least another three hours, much longer if he got as plastered as he hoped he would.

"What? Couldn't get it up?"

"Fuck you," he growled, not even letting that insinuation hang in the air. Santana giggled in response, though, both of them stepping into the elevator to head downstairs. His mind immediately filtered back to this afternoon, and he wondered if he'd ever be able to take the elevator again without thinking of Rachel's body pressed against his. Her cherry lips locking with his, her hands pulling him impossibly close. He'd had elevator _sex_ before, and yet somehow his interaction with Rachel rose above that. Rose above _everything_.

"Didn't work, did it?" She sounded so smug that he honestly thought about punching her in the face. "You're like a druggie. You had your fix and were good for a little bit, and now you're crashing. You need another hit."

"I wouldn't know, cokehead."

"Whatever. It was one time. Everyone experiments in college."

Puck rolled his eyes, stepping out of the building and immediately walking toward Bar Nine. Santana had already changed out of her scrubs into more suitable clothing, suitable for the bar anyway. She was wearing a tank top that was so loose that it scooped past her cleavage, which wasn't really all that tantalizing because it was also sheer enough that everyone could already see her bra. She paired it with jeans that looked like they were painted on and a pair of slutty heels. Just looking at her, he'd known she was planning on getting drunk tonight, too, even if he didn't already. But, he did, because she always drank a lot when she hung out with him and Sam and Mike. She played the entire thing very aloof and usually ended up sucking face with someone right in front of their table, but Puck knew it was all a reaction to Sam giving her the slip all those years ago.

To his credit, Sam tried his damndest to make it work with Santana. The two had met through Puck in college, though Santana had gone to a different school. She'd gotten a cheerleading scholarship and planned on being a dental hygienist so she could take over the family business once her dad croaked. Then, when Puck changed his major to medicine, he sort of convinced her they should do the whole medical school thing together, even though Santana had settled for just being a nurse. For the first three years, though, Santana and Sam had dated, on and off. They fought constantly and made up almost just as much, and Puck really thought Sam might succeed in taming the beast.

Santana, however, was just too much like Puck when it came to commitment; she hated feeling trapped. Sam was one of those guys who was never alone, but was a serial monogamous. When he dated a girl, he was thinking long term. And when he'd finally realized that he wasn't ever going to be able to change Santana's mind, he'd moved on. To Quinn. Needless to say, Santana never got her hundredth second chance.

"Is this your first?" Puck looked at her through the corner of his eye, his question clear. "Has one time ever not been enough for you?"

Puck moved his gaze back in front of him, wanting to pick up his pace but knowing things wouldn't be any better if they got the bar quicker. Sam and Mike had no doubt told Tina and Quinn about Puck having a girl on his mind, and if he wanted to punch Santana, then he'd want to _kill_ all four of them. It didn't matter what Santana thought. This wasn't a _first_. This wasn't anything. He could shake this.

"I should have known something was up when you didn't even hit on that one chick." Santana shook her head, turning down the street that the bar was on. "Even _she_ seemed surprise. You have quite a reputation."

"So do you."

"Yea, but mine doesn't have women switching doctors just to get felt up." Puck rolled his eyes, but Santana continued. "I'm just saying, she looked genuinely pissed when she left without getting the service no doubt she'd heard you were good for."

"I'm good for other things, too."

"God." Santana scoffed. "One afternoon with this chick and already you're turning into a crybaby." She fake cried for a few seconds, sniffling as she spoke. "Sorry I hurt your precious feelings."

"Do you have to be such a bitch all the time?"

"Just when you're being one, too." Santana brushed past him, swinging open the bar door and starting to head inside but turning back around to address him. "Getting drunk isn't going to help you forget."

"Maybe not, but it will drown you out." Puck grinned when Santana finally got fed up with his quick comebacks, flipping her hair as she turned and headed right for the bar. Puck nodded toward the table of friends, dragging a chair up the edge of the table seeing as the sofa seats were all full. "I don't believe we've met."

"This is Brittany," Mike introduced them, the blonde waving at Puck from across the table. "She teaches dance with me at Julliard." Mike looked left then right before leaning in closer but still having to yell thanks to the loud music. "I brought her for Santana."

"Santana?" Puck looked at the blonde again and snorted. Wouldn't have guessed that one. "She's being kind of a bitch tonight."

"She's kind of a bitch every night," Quinn commented lightly, using her thumb and index finger to keep her straw secured to one spot as she sipped at whatever disgusting, girly drink she'd ordered. Even though he'd been fighting with the Latina for the past twenty minutes, Puck glared at Quinn in warning, then passed the same look on to her husband in a "keep your woman under control" kind of way.

"Did I hear something about you and a girl?" Tina asked suddenly, trying to break the tension in the group, but doing little to relieve any of Puck's burden. "Mike said her name is Rachel?"

"And I thought Sam was the one with the big mouth," Santana joked as she came to sit at the table alongside Puck, placing a pitcher of beer and a tray of shots down on the table. Her and Puck quickly downed a shot each, both accepting a glass of beer after Tina poured it. "Who's this?"

"Her name's Brittany," Mike said enthusiastically, clearly one who'd missed the lesson on subtlety. "She teaches dance with me at Julliard."

"Flexible. Hot." It wasn't exactly a pickup line or even a generally accepted compliment, but Brittany blushed nonetheless and everyone else at the table thought maybe Mike had found Santana's soul mate. "You wanna dance?"

The two girls left the table, all three men watching with smirks on their faces before Quinn and Tina hit their respective partners. Puck eventually turned his attention back to the table, too, though his smile quickly faded when he saw the questions in all their eyes. He groaned and downed two more shots before telling them – in graphic detail just because he liked to watch Quinn squirm - what had happened earlier that day, much to their dismay. By the time he was finished, Santana and Brittany had returned, the former quick to finish what had been her original argument from when they'd entered the bar.

"Nooners don't even count. You can't fuck someone out of your system with a quickie!" She shouted over the music, tossing back a shot and chasing it with her beer. "You're going to need to do it right. Do _her _right."

"And in the meantime?" He asked bemused, wondering if she could be right. The whole thing had happened so fast, it hardly felt like it should count. He deserved at least a one-night stand with the girl, not just thirty minutes.

"Go now!" Tina suggested, quickly raising her hands in defense as Mike, Sam, and Quinn all glared at her. "What? It's Puck. He's not going to change!" Puck scoffed at this, but let her continue. "If you want her, go get her."

Everyone laughed at the crazy idea; everyone except Puck. It took him only a few seconds of decision making and about a minute of plotting before he was up and out of his seat, tossing Santana a wave. She flipped him off and downed another shot before he left the bar, walking toward the theater that he'd remembered Rachel mention during one of her many long speeches. He was still dressed fairly nicely, so when he'd walked in and told one of the ushers that he was Rachel's brother and he was hoping to surprise her, they wasted little time quietly moving him to her dressing room. They informed him that it would be intermission in a few minutes, so he took a seat on the lush loveseat on the side wall and kicked his feet up, waiting for her arrival.

Rachel ran off the stage just as intended and slowed to a stop in front of Kurt and Mercedes, who both looked beyond elated by her appearance. She hadn't told either of them about what had happened today at lunch with Puck, but she got the feeling that they knew. Kurt had an incredible sixth sense about those types of things – he was still the only one who knew she and Jesse had slept together one night last year when he'd been in town; it hadn't meant anything, just a stress reliever of sorts – and Mercedes had an ear for juicy gossip. Goody two-shoes Rachel Berry sharing an illicit afternoon with a practical stranger would no doubt rate high on her list of noteworthy news.

"You were _incredible_,"

"Thanks?" She answered, honestly not sure if that was a compliment. Kurt had sounded surprised, as if she weren't incredible _every _night.

"No, like, _amazing_," Mercedes tried to clarify, but frankly only made it worse. "You've _never_ preformed like that. What … what happened?"

"Nothing," she answered honestly, but her inflection clearly tipped them off. The two friends shared a look and Rachel sighed, knowing the next thing coming out of their mouths as well as she knew her lines for the musical.

"Nothing named _Dr. Puckerman_."

"Rockets in flight, afternoon delight?"

Rachel couldn't help it, she giggled at Kurt's question. In all honesty, she should feel embarrassed, but she couldn't bring herself to be such. Maybe that different person from earlier was still with her, or maybe she'd just grown up enough that she could accept what had happened for what it was. _Exactly_ what she needed. Everything with her and Jesse had been so complicated, the two having gone back and forth so many times that even _she_ thought their relationship had been dramatic. What happened with Puck had been simple. Black and white. Cut and dry.

Perfect.

"She's speechless." Mercedes blinked in shock. "This is serious."

"The question is how serious?" Kurt leaned closer, as if examining her. "Are you going to see him again?"

"I-I don't know." She shrugged, trying to make it seem airy but feeling the weight of it in her words. By the time they'd made it to his apartment and skipped lunch, Puck had to almost run back to the office. He'd offered to let her stay, but she'd of course declined, saying she had to get to work herself. Now she was here, and wishing she was there. "Maybe."

The sound of the crowd erupting into applause broke through their conversation, the remaining cast members coming backstage after the curtain dropped. Intermission lasted twenty minutes and it was a nice break for the audience, but the cast and crew were mostly still working. Kurt was immediately pulled away to deal with a wardrobe malfunction, and Mercedes went to touch up her makeup before her next scene. Rachel didn't have to change, so she decided just to go to her dressing room and relax for a little bit before the curtain call.

Relaxing, however, went right out the window when she opened the door and came face to face with Puck.

"Bonjour," he smirked, noting her costume first and her shocked expression second.

"H-how did you get back here?"

"I have ways of getting into tight spaces."

Rachel managed to close her mouth (and the door), but everything after that required too much extra thought. He was repulsive, but she couldn't even think of a proper criticism. Instead, she was too busy _staring_. He looked good. Did he look that good earlier? She sighed heavenly, knowing he had. It's what had made her feel so different earlier. What had her feeling so different _then_.

"Prove it," she purred, giggling wildly when he sprang from his seat and grabbed her in his arms. He made quick work of her costume, the beggar dress pooling to the ground and leaving Rachel in just her bra and panties. With his lips suctioned to her neck, Rachel undid the buttons on his dress shirt just like this afternoon, only this time she pushed the garment off his shoulders and untucked the wife beater from his slacks. He growled when she skimmed her nails over his chest and stomach, his hands moving from her covered breasts to hook behind her thighs.

Puck lifted her off the ground, taking a couple of steps toward the loveseat before spinning them around and taking a seat. Rachel's knees settled onto the cushion on each side of him, her hips rocking against his as their lips found one another's again. She slipped her tongue between his teeth, using the tip to run over the roof of his mouth. His hands gripped her hips tighter, forcing her harder onto his raging boner.

Rachel bit his lip in response, Puck bucking up into her and groaning loudly before reclaiming her lips. There was no patience in the embrace, his tongue demanding entrance and fighting with hers the entire time. They dueled for dominance, matching each other thrust for thrust all while making quick work of Puck's pants and boxers. He'd managed to sneak a condom from his back pocket, and Rachel quickly took it from his grip. She rolled it on and didn't hesitate before pushing her underwear aside and sinking onto his length.

"S-shit," she stuttered, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. Puck's head lulled back, his eyes opening slowly after neither of them moved for a few seconds. Again they locked eyes and this time he couldn't help but notice the power in her melted chocolate gaze. He'd seen the spark in her eyes the first time they'd met, but was surprised to see it was still present – and quite possibly shining brighter now.

"Ten minutes!" The stagehand announced from outside, Rachel closing her eyes tight. Her hips started to gyrate against his, and Puck seemed to sense her urgency. He moved his hand to her most private area, swiping his thumb against her clit feverishly. She yelped out in ecstasy, moving without abandon. The second her orgasm started to roll through her, Rachel dug her nails into Puck's shoulders, actually breaking the skin.

Usually Puck couldn't care less about his partner's orgasms. He made sure they had them, but their faces or reactions were of little interest to him. For some reason, though, the way Rachel responded to him seemed to push him over the edge. Even as her movements started to wane, Puck felt the familiar tingling in his balls and then, like a flash, he was spilling his seed into the condom, coming so hard that he gripped her hips tightly enough that he thought he might actually have left bruises.

"That was … I mean …" Rachel swallowed thickly, trying to catch her breath before she spoke again. "Thanks."

Typically Puck would have laughed, maybe even returned the gratitude. More than likely he would have followed it with something completely crass and arrogant, but he couldn't bring himself to do it this time. Standing up along with Rachel and redressing while he watched her quickly put her costume back on, something overcame him. If Santana was right and he was a druggie, then he'd just grown a tolerance for Rachel. The first time had lasted him a few hours, but now they'd just finished and already he wanted more. _Needed _more.

"You got plans for later?"

Rachel stopped retouching her makeup, looking at Puck through the mirror in surprise. She blushed and smiled coyly, turning around and facing him head on. The stagehand knocked frantically on Rachel's door, yelling at her that the curtain was set to go up in three minutes, meaning she was to be on stage in the same amount of time.

"Hopefully a repeat performance."

Puck chuckled, accepting her hurried kiss and watching her dash out of the room. Santana had said that quickies didn't count, but that one sure felt like it did.


	6. Say You Want It

**Author's Note:** I hate to update and run, but ... quick but GIANT thank you to everyone reading and reviewing. I'm sorry you guys are finding the chapters to be short, but 1) it's definitely my style, 2) I hopefully make up for it with the quicker updates and 3) I like you guys wanting to come back for more. LOL! Please excuse any errors that might be in here, as I'm not giving it the final review I normally do. Maybe later ... for now, just enjoy (and review)!

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><p>It took every iota of strength and willpower that Rachel possessed, but the second she had bowed alongside her male lead counterpart, she dashed off the stage and headed straight back to her dressing room. She'd been playing the part of Belle for the past four years and pretty much soaked up every opportunity to be in the spotlight since then. If the production company ever needed her to stay late to sign autographs, she did it. If they asked her to arrive early for the media, Rachel came in. She lived for the recognition and loved the attention.<p>

But, at that moment, she loved the attention a certain doctor had been giving her just a little more.

"Rachel!" Kurt followed her down the main corridor like a puppy, Rachel flinching at his call before turning around to face him. She tried to look casual, but she could tell even in the distance that he'd caught on. Apparently her performance during the second act had been even better than during the first, and he was smart enough to know why. "I want to meet him!"

"Absolutely not," she hissed, shifting her eyes to the left and then to the right, thankful no one had heard him. "No."

"Rachel!" He whined, practically transforming into a toddler right in front of her eyes. The hallway was so tight that she felt like a mother in line at the grocery store arguing with her child about why he wasn't allowed to have a candy bar. "I'm going to tell Mercedes!"

And just like that, he'd transformed from a toddler to a younger sibling, threatening to tell _Mom_ if he didn't get his way. "Fine!" Rachel huffed, one of her hands lifting from her hip to point at him sternly. "You can say, 'Hi,' and that's it. Is that clear? I don't need you embarrassing me."

"I'm sure you're doing plenty of that on your own." Kurt's eyes widened, realizing he should leave the playful jabs for _after_ he's gotten his way. Luckily Rachel just turned and continued toward her dressing room, likely knowing the longer she spent in the middle of the hallway the more likely it was to get sucked into some promotional event or even an after party. A lot of the cast went out after shows on Fridays, and Rachel hated to say no when she was invited since it had taken her so long to make friends in the first place.

She turned the knob of her dressing room, inhaling a deep breath and then holding it when she opened the door, exhaling after she saw Puck was asleep on the loveseat. She walked quietly into the room to get a better look, and couldn't help the shy smile that crept onto her face as she watched him. He looked so completely peaceful, so much like a child trapped in a man's body that it was incredibly endearing. He always looked so hard and tough and cocky. Right then, though, he looked pure. Real.

"Gawd!" Kurt whisper-yelled, taking in the whole package. Unlike Mercedes, Kurt had never seen Puck before. He hadn't heard what Erin and the other women had told Rachel, but he knew without a doubt that it couldn't have compared to the real thing. And now it made complete sense why his sweet, innocent Rachel was in the midst of a casual relationship and didn't seem to care in the least. "I was going to make a joke about violating some doctor-patient fraternization policy, but Hell if I wouldn't, too."

"Kurt," she reprimanded softly, rolling her eyes. "You saw him. Now please leave."

"Want him all to yourself, huh?" She glared at him and he just chuckled, putting up his hands in surrender and backing away, closing the door behind him. Rachel rolled her eyes again even though he couldn't see her, eventually moving her gaze back to Puck. She sidestepped the small coffee table in front of the loveseat, sitting softly on the piece of furniture. She watched him sleep for a few more seconds, then gingerly reached her hand out to run the back of her fingers over his cheek.

Puck sighed softly, his face turning into the caress as he was pulled from his deep slumber. He was sure the gesture had just been an extension of the crazy dream he'd been having, but then his senses also started to waken and the smell of honey and strawberries filtered through him. It was distinct enough that he knew it was real, Puck smiling softly when he opened his eyes and was greeted by her beautiful, smiling face. She looked completely angelic and the look in her eyes stole his breath.

Wait. What?

His eyes ripped open and he sat up with a jerk, clearing his throat and setting his jaw. He shook his head slightly as if literally trying to clear the fog in his brain, crossing his arms over his chest. Rachel sat up straighter in response, too, and the two just looked at each other for a moment. Neither said anything, just stared at one another, growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing second.

"I've never done this before," she finally admitted.

"Been quiet for longer than a minute?"

Rachel scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Wanted to sleep with someone and punch him at the same time."

Puck chuckled at her fast remark, his suddenly sour mood dissipating thanks to her quick wit. It was refreshing, which was the adjective he'd probably use to describe his interaction with Rachel as a whole. He'd been afraid she'd be clingy, and she wasn't. He'd been afraid she'd be dull in bed, and fuck if she was that either. She hadn't even been all that loud or talkative, which was something else he'd expected. Rachel Berry, it seemed, was full of surprises.

"That could be kind of hot."

Rachel rolled her eyes, trying not to smile at the sexy sound of his voice. "Sorry, but the closest I'll ever be to S&M is my black leather boots." He groaned hungrily and she rolled her eyes again. "I'm guessing _this_ isn't new to _you_."

"You're new to me," he answered honestly, half-wondering if she'd understand that he meant it in a good way and half-hoping she wouldn't. Deciding to distract her just in case she caught on, Puck pushed his torso away from the back cushion of the loveseat, grinning when Rachel reacted to his forward motion by moving back. He didn't stop, though, pressing his hands flat on the coffee table on each side of her as he sat up. If she went back any further she'd be hanging over the edge, so she stopped with his mouth just centimeters away from hers. "I'll make it easy on ya."

"Sure you don't want it to be hard?" Rachel blushed at her own question, or maybe more at the way his eyes clouded over in response. He breathed out a curse word, the warm air of it passing over her cheek and lingering on the sensitive skin of her neck. She could feel her blood start to race through her, her heart pumping quicker in response to his proximity. Unable to take it anymore, she tilted her head just enough to the right that their noses wouldn't touch and pushed her lips into his. She toyed with his top lip and then the bottom one, eventually sliding her tongue between the two and requesting entry. Puck obliged instantly, but almost bit her tongue when a loud, thumping on the dressing room door interrupted the embrace.

"Diva!"

Rachel cringed at the sound of Kurt's voice, only removing herself from Puck and going over to answer the door because she knew what her friend needed. She quickly swiped at her lips and ran a hand over her hair, forgetting it, too, was in costume in some ways. She inhaled a deep breath and swung the door open, doing her best to look innocent.

"Two minutes."

Kurt rolled his eyes, walking into her dressing room even though she was walking away toward her bathroom. "I was banking on you being out of it already." He chuckled at his own joke, watching her retreat even faster before he turned and eyed Puck. "I'm Kurt."

"Puck."

A long moment of silence passed between the two, Kurt moving uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He wondered what Puck and Rachel talked about, but then remembered that they probably hadn't done much talking. And, well maybe if he wasn't with Blaine he'd consider it, but then again it didn't look like Puck played for his team. Kurt would go as far as to guess that Puck was the type of guy who didn't really even like heterosexual pornography since there was a naked man present.

"Here you go!" Rachel said cheerfully, extending the dress toward Kurt in presentation. She bent down and gathered the other costumes from tonight off the floor, her head snapping up when she heard Puck groan from across the room. She saw his smirk and then looked down at herself, realizing the scoop of her neckline draped far enough down that Puck could see completely down her shirt. She quickly righted her posture, glaring at him while pushing the other outfits at Kurt. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Lunch?"

She nodded, accepting his kiss on the cheek and waiting until the door was closed again before looking back toward Puck. He'd gone to sitting back on the loveseat, but then stood up and walked toward her. It was almost predatory, and even though her instincts told her to move away, everything else was pulling her forward. The two met in the middle, his hands coming up to rest on the soft fabric of her skirt while hers toyed with the lapels of his open dress shirt.

"So, your place or mine?"

Rachel tilted her head up slowly, her brown hair cascading away from her face as she looked at him. He seemed so sure and confident, and she yearned to have the same feeling. It was normally something she only felt on stage, but it oddly coursed through her naturally whenever she was like this with him. Maybe it was because he was a stranger. Without all the pressure of expectations weighing her down, she felt completely free to do or say whatever she wanted with him. And he, it seemed, had a similar viewpoint – completely honest to a troubling degree.

"I live closer," she finally said, those three words enough to push them into action. He redid the buttons on his shirt while she gathered her coat and purse. They walked out of the dressing room and then the theater, silently agreeing to take a cab to her place. Normally it would be faster to walk, but it was late and there was a line of cabs waiting out front just hoping for some stragglers. They'd made it to her building in three minutes, walking into her apartment after two more.

While Rachel certainly didn't live in a penthouse suite, her place was still a good indication of her success in New York. She lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the 23rd floor, complete with a balcony and a spectacular cityscape view from her bedroom as well. The floor plan was open and inviting, the high ceilings and angled walls giving the apartment a more sophisticated feel. The kitchen featured white cabinetry and Botticino marble countertops, featuring the same parquet flooring that spanned the entire apartment.

"Nice digs," he finally commented, thinking his view was better but hers wasn't particularly bad. Her furniture looked way more comfortable than he knew his was, and that thought alone caused him to pass her in the foyer and move into the living room. "How long have you lived here?"

Rachel blinked in surprise, wondering if he'd asked her a question in their entire relationship aside from those leading to sex or those that had been about her as a patient. She took a second to step out of her heels and place them in the closet by the door, hanging her coat up inside, too. She smiled when he moaned out loud after sinking into her couch, almost melting into the cushions. The entire set had cost her a fortune, but after a long day of rehearsing and/or a long night of performing it was well worth it.

"I've lived in New York since I was eighteen, but I moved here four years ago." She came to stand behind the matching chair, her hands burrowing into the fabric just to stay busy. "Are you going to fall asleep on _that_ couch as well?"

"Shit's comfortable." Puck's eyes were closed, but he slowly opened them and smirked. "But don't worry. I've got plenty of energy left."

Rachel blushed at his words, her head bowing and focusing on her hands just so she didn't keep staring at him. The brave side of her from earlier wasn't feeling as courageous anymore. She wanted him to make the first move, wanted him to take control. Normally that was something Rachel never demanded of another person, but in a weird way she trusted him to navigate them through this situation correctly.

"You don't need to worry so much," Puck offered, peeling himself off her lighter-than-air couch. "You should be havin' fun."

"I am," she assured softly.

"Good." He smirked, taking the last step to close the space between them, mimicking their position from earlier in the dressing room. "This is completely casual. No rules, no restrictions."

His voice was low, hypnotizing. Rachel felt her head bend to the left just to give his lips more access to her neck. His breath had originally been dancing across the skin, but as soon as Rachel moved he let his lips take over and then his tongue. Her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed out a sigh, her hands coming up to rest on his forearms. When he nibbled on the taunt skin, her grip tightened so much that her knuckles turned white.

"How about you give me the tour?" He whispered huskily, ending his question by biting her earlobe. "Starting with the bedroom."

Rachel nodded her head, the two of them fumbling to the other room all while still kissing and now undressing. He kicked off his shoes and undid the buttons of his dress shirt while she threw her arms over her head, allowing him to yank off the shirt she felt like she'd just put on. Her hands came back down and settled on his jaw, pulling his lips to hers again and then moving them down to undo his belt and the button of his slacks. She released his lips with a final flick of her tongue, then bent down and took his pants and boxers on her way.

Puck inhaled sharply when she swiped her tongue over his length, her dainty hand securing the base before she engulfed him completely. His eyes slammed shut at the sensation of her perfect, little mouth around him, and he suddenly didn't care anymore about how much she talked because her mouth was incredible. She managed to stroke him, lick him, and suck him all at the same time, and then amazingly enough he felt his tip hit the back of her throat and she didn't stop. And even though his eyes momentarily rolled into the back of his head, the second she started humming, they opened in a flash.

"Fuck," he coughed out, his hand threading into her long hair. The look of her perky, little behind raised in the air didn't make the situation any easier. Instead, it forced him to pull her away, flipping her around so her tight ass was right in front of him. Rachel's hands settled on the bed as his moved underneath her skirt, Puck moaning again when he felt how wet she was. "You want this."

Rachel whimpered in response and then yelped out in pleasure when he merely pushed her skirt up and shucked her underwear off. She looked between her legs after a moment and saw him finishing up putting on a condom before, without warning, he entered her from behind. Her hands gripped at her comforter, her head falling forward when his powerful thrusts became too much. The feel of his hands on her hips made her seem powerless and completely in control at the same time, like there was nothing she could do because she was already doing plenty. And with that mentality, Rachel stopped worrying about Puck and his needs and just enjoyed herself, biting her lip hard when she felt him bend over her and run his tongue along her spine.

"Say you want it," he urged, knowing a chick who loved to talk as much as she did had to be into dirty talk. But when she just moaned in response, he slammed into her harder. "Say it."

Rachel's eyes were shut so tight she thought she might get a headache, her teeth clenched together as she did her best to hold herself in one piece. She'd never been bold enough to say anything in bed aside from the occasional directional commands – harder, faster, right there. But with Puck it was like she was biting her tongue just to keep them from spewing out, and now he was actually demanding she say them.

"I want it," she rushed out, mewling when he pounded into her appreciatively. She whipped her hair back, turning her head just enough where she could see him in the corner of her eye. He looked cocky as usual, and satisfied that she'd complied with his wishes, but there was something else written on his expression. Something more powerful than just lust. Something closer, maybe, to need. "I want you."

Puck growled, leaning all the way forward and crashing his lips against hers for a second before trailing them across her shoulder and then down her back. He moved his right hand off her hip and snuck it in front of her body, pinpointing the tiny bundle of nerves that might as well have been a power button. She slammed back into him on a gasp, Puck forcing himself harder into her in response. They rocked together like that for only another minute or so before neither of them could hold on anymore, their orgasms hitting them hard and simultaneously.

Rachel's legs gave away as the last wave of pleasure crashed over her, her body falling helplessly onto her mattress. She sighed and snuggled into the soft cushion, giggling slightly when she felt Puck do the same thing. Half-closed, her eyes lifted to regard him, a smile forming on her face when she saw his eyes were completely shut.

"Fuck. This is even better than the couch."

She bit her lip nervously, managing to also stifle a yawn. "You can stay if you want."

"I want," he grumbled, surprising both of them. He wasn't going to think about it too much, though. Right then he didn't think he could move even if he wanted to, so staying wasn't really a choice.

"Say you want it."

His smirk emerged before he opened one eye to look at her. She had this coy smile on her face that caused a bubble of laughter to filter out of him and into the quiet room. She giggled too and he honestly thought about trying to give it a go again. Unfortunately, he only made it to his side before he lost all the rest of his energy. Rachel's body mirrored his own, and the last thing he remembered before falling asleep was her hand pressing against his chest while his settled on the dip of her waist.


	7. His Name Drips Off Her Lips Like Honey

**Author's Note:** So this actually IS a short chapter, so I thought I'd update a little earlier than usual. For those of you wondering, this story does actually still intend to have plot, but then again I don't think anyone's really complaining about the smuckleberry chapters. Haha. In fact, to that, thank you thank you thank you to everyone leaving reviews. They mean so much to me! I hope you all continue to read and enjoy and review!

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><p>Puck awoke with a start, his head lifting off the mattress and searching the area quickly. He was lying in the middle of a bed that felt more like a cloud and the view of the city wasn't like his but it was actually really nice. Much closer, he noted the slight indent of where she'd been sleeping next to him, his hand moving from next to his stomach to the area and noticing it was cool to the touch. Normally he was the one that bailed in the middle of the night. But, wait. She couldn't have bailed. This was <em>her<em> place.

He lifted his head more, noting a faint light from somewhere outside the closed bedroom door. He scrambled out of the bed, finding his boxers in the dark and hopping into them before swinging the door open. The faint light was gone, but he noticed movement in the kitchen and walked closer. Standing in the doorway, he watched as she opened the refrigerator door back open, the small light accentuating her frame perfectly. She was wearing just his dress shirt, bending over far enough that the hemline hit her high thigh.

He must have made a noise of some kind (probably a moan considering all he could think about was taking her from behind again) because she turned around abruptly. There was a spoon in her mouth and a jar of honey in her hand, and fuck if he didn't make a noise after that. It was official; he wasn't bailing until he had a chance to lick honey off of her tits.

Rachel had been surprised by his appearance, but she hadn't been surprised by his feverish behavior. She didn't know him that well, but it was something she'd grown accustomed to in their short time together. She only barely managed to place the jar down on the counter before he attacked her, her one hand gripping the spoon she'd taken out of her mouth while the other gripped his bicep. Her lower back hit the edge of the counter, and then in reflex she was wrapping her legs around him.

He lifted her effortlessly onto the counter, and the action paired with the feel of his bicep flexing under her hand made her swoon. It was completely barbaric and set the feminist movement back a good twenty years, but there was something entirely thrilling about being with a strong man. She felt safe with him, which made no sense considering she knew next to nothing about him. Perhaps it was time to change that.

"Wh-what's your name?"

"I think it's 'Say my name', babe." She could feel his smirk on her neck and her eyes lifted in half exasperation and half desire. But no matter how many words were present in her vast vocabulary, she couldn't think of a single one to say when his tongue darted out, probing her pulse point. He nipped at her jaw and then trailed up to her lips, kissing her slowly before pulling back. "But I'll make a deal with ya. If you guess it, I'll tell ya."

"Jon."

"No." He put one hand over her mouth, the other reaching behind her to grab the jar of honey. Her eyes widened, whether in fear or excitement he couldn't really tell. "I'll spell it out for you."

Puck grinned at the ragged inhale she took, her eyes leaving his only to watch his hands. He twisted the cap of the jar open, momentarily wondering who kept a giant jar of honey in the fridge. He wasn't even sure he _owed_ honey, but if he did he knew it would be in that dumb plastic bear. Hers was obviously recently heated up, and the label read that it was sugar-free and he almost wanted to stop everything right then just to tease her. Instead, he dipped his index finger into the gooey treat, pulling it out and smiling before touching his finger to her thigh.

Rachel gasped lightly at the contact, watching in fascination as he moved the digit in a particular shape. His movements were slow and methodical, the honey not quite as pliable as she imagined he'd hoped it would be. Still, he drew a letter that really could have only been a few things, so she moved her attention back to the task at hand instead of his feather-light touch.

"Nick?"

Puck grinned, pleased she'd gotten the letter right, but shook his head softly from side to side. Slowly he bent down, flattening his tongue and swiping it across her thigh. She inhaled sharply, her head falling softly to the cabinet behind her as he licked away the sticky residue. She dropped the spoon, the cool metal hitting the floor with a loud clang that was only quieted by the long, heavy sigh escaping from Rachel's lips. It wasn't until he was all done did she finally look back at him, watching again as he dipped his finger back into the jar.

"Nelson?"

She laughed lightly at the face he made, biting her lip when he moved to the other leg and started to write another letter. There couldn't possibly be a lot of names that started with the letter 'N', but for the life of her she couldn't think of any others. Then again, that might have had more to do with the unnamed man licking honey off of her and less about her intellectual capabilities.

"Nolan?"

Puck finished licking away the honey, lifting back up and licking his lips, too. She mimicked the gesture and he watched the pink of her tongue with heavy lids. It made him think of other parts on her that were pink, and he couldn't help but be dragged back into her space. Her lips were possibly sweeter than the treat from the jar, his fingers making quick work of the buttons of his shirt that she was wearing.

Rachel knew what was coming next, and while part of her didn't want to withdraw her grip from his shoulders, the other part couldn't help the way her body opened up to him. She rested her palms flat on the surface of the kitchen countertop, her shoulders squaring and her back arching. Puck groaned and she watched with ragged breath as he dipped two fingers into the honey jar and then let the sticky treat drip across her leg until he pressed the two long digits to her chest. Rachel moaned out in pleasure when he started writing the next letter to his name, her brain filing the "A" away so she could instead focus on the rest of his movements.

Her head fell back against the cabinet behind her again when Puck swiped his tongue over her nipple, pulling the sensitive peak between his teeth and sucking. The honey on her chest started to drip lower, and he was quick to follow the sticky path. He poked his tongue into her bellybutton, and Rachel arched even more, her legs spreading wider when Puck made no move to return to her chest. She gasped loudly when he didn't veer to the left or right, his tongue swiping over her clit and continuing down her center.

Puck groaned after the first taste, still sensing the honey and wondering if was because it was on his tongue or if she actually tasted the way she smelled. Deciding there was only one way to find out, he trailed his hands down her legs until he reached her knees, lifting them up enough so they rested over his back. Then he forcefully grabbed her ass, pulling her right into him and went to work. He licked, sucked, kissed, nipped … anything and everything to keep her making those little noises that she was chanting. They were sexy because they seemed completely involuntary, but then she said the one thing he'd never heard but instantly wanted to hear over and over again.

"Noah," she whimpered, grasping at his scalp and sighing in relief when he finally pulled away. She could taste herself on his lips but didn't care, thrusting her tongue inside his moist cavern hungrily. She detached her mouth from his long enough to gasp out that she was on the pill, and then she gasped again when he made quick work of his boxers and slammed into her. Rachel had already been teetering on the edge, and she embarrassingly slipped right off only seconds into his assault.

Puck moaned at the feel of Rachel's walls clenching around him, his hands gripping her ass and pulling her closer. He wasn't going to be able to last much longer, but he desperately wanted to prolong the feel of her wet heat surrounding him for as long as he could. Unfortunately, the feel of her nails digging into his back paired with the soft squish of honey when his chest pressed against hers was too much. Puck pounded into her with reckless abandon, emptying into her milliseconds after his name fell from her lips again.

Rachel rested her head against his shoulder, running her tongue over her dry lips as she tried desperately to catch her breath. She'd come out here to have some hot tea since she'd been too busy with Puck earlier, but now she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look at honey the same again. It was a fairly important ingredient in her life, and to imagine she'd think of Puck every time she used it sort of scared her but made her smile at the same time.

"Noah is a lovely name."

"Yea, well," he shrugged, pulling away and then out of her. She made a soft noise when they separated and it was actually enough for him not to completely dislodged from her. He let his hands dance over her thighs, running down the tops and then back up the sides. She shivered at the action, Puck's cocky grin emerging. "Let's just keep that between you and me."

"Whatever for?" She questioned with a frown, proud that she was managing to hold a conversation while he was silently torturing her.

"Everyone else calls me Puck."

"Well, we don't know each other very well, but I have a secret for you." Rachel rolled her eyes, sliding off the kitchen counter onto unstable legs. She smiled sheepishly, looking up into his eyes and whispering, "I'm not like everyone else."

Puck blinked as he watched her move across the apartment, actually thinking of her words instead of the unabashed way she strutted naked through the open space. It was dark but he could see where she was headed, and he'd never been more torn in his whole life. This was supposed to be a one-time thing. Hit it and quit it. He'd left his friends tonight just to fuck her out of his system, and four times in one day should have done the trick. But it didn't. And that made her more unlike everyone else than she even knew.

In fact, she wasn't like _anyone_ else.

"I'm dreadfully disgusting," Rachel commented from the doorframe of the bathroom, the sound of the shower running coming from behind her. "I think this honey is starting to seep into my skin." She bit her lip, wondering why he was suddenly so quiet. "I suppose it was only a matter of time. I drink enough tea with honey and lemon that one of those ingredients was bound to leak out of my pores eventually."

"You should taste like honey. You already smell like it."

"I do?" She questioned comically.

He hummed in reply, stepping out of the boxers that were pooled at his feet and walking closer to her. "And strawberries."

"That's my shampoo." Rachel bit her lip, her head tilting up as he approached her. The steam from the hot water started to filter out of the bathroom, surrounding the pair. "I-If you want, you can join me in the shower and I'll show you."

Puck knew he should decline. Things were spiraling out of control and the only way to set everything right was to take a giant step back and tell her thanks but no thanks. He'd gotten what he needed from her and now he could move on. There were plenty of other women who'd be willing to take a shower with him, or screw him on a kitchen counter, or let him spread honey all over their bodies. It was time to bail.

"I could show you a few other things, too," she added sexily, pushing away from the doorframe and moving to step inside the shower. The image of her silhouette moving into the warm stream of water hit him harder than he expected, his head sagging low as he braced himself against the doorframe. He blew out a heavy breath, trying to psyche himself into being strong enough to leave, but then he heard her start to playfully belt out the lyrics to _Pour Some Sugar On Me_ and there was really no stopping his forward motion after that.

He'd bail _after _cleaning up (and getting dirty again).


	8. Everything is Inconclusive

**Author's Note:** Another short chapter means another quick update. What can I say, I'm a giver ... let's just leave out the fact that I was supposed to do this this morning and am only NOW getting around to it. Oye. A million thank yous to everyone reading and reviewing. You guys are too kind and I hope you won't stone me to death now that we're moving back toward the actual plot - don't worry; you haven't seen the last of the smut, either. (:oP Enjoy!

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><p>Rachel stepped out of the shower, pushing back the curtain and wringing some water out of her hair as well as the memories of last week. Last Friday had been like an alternate reality between her and Puck, and much like she couldn't look at honey the same anymore, Rachel blushed whenever she was in the bathroom now, too. They'd ended up not having sex in the shower because the water turned extremely cold for some reason, but they <em>had<em> played doctor in the bathroom, giving one another a sponge bath that turned into something entirely unprofessional. It was silly and hot and afterward they'd fallen asleep in her room again (him on one side of the bed, her on the other). When they woke in the morning, Puck had been weird but he seemed to calm down when she'd said she had to leave for work.

As she dressed and prepared to leave, Rachel thought about the implied no strings attached agreement between her and Puck. She'd never considered herself the type of person who would partake in such a relationship, but she couldn't deny the benefits. They both had pretty demanding schedules and a relationship was something Rachel hadn't been able to sustain since she started working on _Beauty and the Beast_. If she'd found a way to capture the niceties that came along with a boyfriend without actually _having_ a boyfriend, then maybe she'd won a lottery of sorts. Sex with Puck was incredible. Not only was he amazing, but he made _her_ feel amazing, too. It was an amazing feeling to have someone like him _want_ someone like her. Plus, because she knew he wasn't looking for anything serious, she wasn't worried about doing or saying the right thing around him. If he left, he left. If he stayed, he stayed.

She didn't care one way or another.

Except she did, she thought with a sigh when she stepped out of her apartment complex. She was heading to the doctor's office for her consultation with Puck, and she couldn't have been more nervous. She didn't know what to expect when she saw him again, and that was precisely why she hadn't wanted to step into this world in the first place. It was so far out of her comfort zone that she was unsure of what to do and Rachel _hated _being unsure.

What she wasn't unsure of, though, was that she didn't want to stop, either. Casual or not, Puck was fun to be around, and he made _her_ fun, too – also out of her comfort zone. So perhaps it was better this way. To just go with the flow. Her and Puck could be whatever it was they were, and then tonight she'd go out with Blaine and Kurt and Kurt's brother, Finn, and maybe they'd be someone else entirely. Maybe he would be The One and she'd finally have everything in her life that she'd always dreamed of.

"Good morning," she greeted brightly as she entered the doctor's office, seeing Santana sitting behind the receptionist's desk. "Hello, Ms. Lopez! Looking forward to the weekend?"

"Sure." Santana rolled her eyes, marking Rachel's arrival time and going to grab her chart from the files. She placed it in the line of waiting patients, and ten minutes later came to the lobby door to call her back. The tiny brunette bounced excitedly as she walked by, and Santana couldn't help the instinct inside her that begged to drop Rachel down a peg. Smiling wickedly, Santana started humming _Afternoon Delight_.

Only a few bars in, Rachel blushed profusely, her eyes shifting from the left and right before she hissed, "He _told_ you?"

She was appalled that their time together had turned into interoffice gossip. She had a reputation to maintain, and being considered a whore was not how she'd accomplish that. She couldn't believe she'd put herself in this situation. It was stupid and reckless. She'd sacrificed _everything_ to get to where she was today and to think she'd almost lost it all for _sex_.

"You should see the vein on your forehead. It's huge," Santana joked, rolling her eyes. "You can stop freakin' out. I'm not just some nurse who heard all the gory details standing by the water cooler." Rachel's blush deepened. "I've known Puck since middle school."

Rachel's eyes lit up, this information immediately replacing all the other thoughts swirling around her mind. She'd had a week to think about all the little things she obviously didn't know about his past, and even though she didn't have a lot of free time, the amount of daydreaming she did was almost unhealthy. She had envisioned Puck growing up in the city, definitely a rebellious teenager. Probably the baby in the family, too, most of his acts of defiance done to get attention. He was so suave and charming nowadays that Rachel wondered if he was a nerd in high school, the type of guy who blossomed in college.

"That's incredible!" She finally said, realizing she was again getting lost in her own fantasy land when the truth was standing right in front of her. "What was he like?"

Santana regarded her with her patent glare. "I thought you guys were keeping it light?"

Rachel frowned instantly, bowing her head and nodding a little. Right. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact. Symptom of never doing something like this before, she reasoned. "Absolutely."

Santana opened her mouth to say something almost the same instant Puck opened the door to the room, both women looking over at him. Puck took in Rachel's appearance quickly but then averted his eyes. He honed in on Santana, the scowl that had originally been on his face back as he regarded the Latina.

"I need to talk to you." He glanced back at Rachel for a second before adding, "Privately." Puck pulled Santana out of the room, walking far enough away from the room that Rachel wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. He turned and lifted the chart up in presentation. "Did you read this?"

"That would depend on what it is."

"It's Rachel's chart," he stated in exasperation, trying not to think about what was inside the folder. "Did you look at it?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Because it's kind of your job!" He snarled, pulling her out of the hallway and into an open room before slamming the door. Santana, however, wasn't the type of girl who you could just push and shove around, fighting back with harsh words spoken in quick, flawless Spanish. Puck had only taken a few years of Spanish in high school and then another year in college before he'd spent a summer in Mexico for a work study. He'd had an interpreter helping him there, though, so the only words he'd understood spewing from Santana's mouth were the bad ones – not that there weren't plenty of those to sift through.

"And _another_ thing," she spat, going back to English because she wanted to make sure he heard this part. "If you care so damn much about the midget, then _maybe_ you should man up instead of yelling at _me_ because I didn't read her _stupid _chart."

Puck started to fight back, but Santana just stalked off, not interested in his words. He turned around to face the empty room, inhaling deep breaths to keep himself from punching a hole in the wall. Once he had collected himself, Puck walked out of the room and then down the hall back to where they'd left Rachel. He stood outside her door for a second, taking a short breath and preparing to go inside and tell her what her lab work had revealed. He was just going to treat her like any other patient, giving her the facts and her options and that would be that.

"Mornin'," he drawled, walking into the room only after knocking.

Rachel smiled at the gesture, trying to catch his eye even though it seemed like he was doing whatever he could to avoid her. "Hey, stranger," she said coyly, her hair falling in front of her face as she ducked her head down a bit.

Puck clutched the chart between his two hands, watching her intently and forgetting all the professionalism he'd come into the room prepared to use. She looked amazing in a simple sundress and casual heels, her smile shy but as bright as ever. Their time together last week flashed before his eyes and he suddenly couldn't disconnect the two anymore. How was he supposed to be Dr. Puckerman when she'd seen Puck – or, even worse, possibly Noah?

"Is something the matter?" She asked cautiously, feeling the tension in the room. He looked unsettled, almost sick. Definitely _not_ casual.

"It's about your lab results." His voice caught in his throat when her eyes widened, the smile immediately falling from her face. "They were …" he trailed off, eventually sighing. "They were inconclusive." It was a lie, but it was better than the truth. He couldn't stand there and tell her that something was wrong. They didn't know _what_ was wrong, and there was no point in telling her before they figured it out. At least _that's_ how he was justifying it. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to do the labs again."

"Again?" She questioned hesitantly, letting out a heavy sigh.

She looked to be a mix of pissed and sad, and Puck yearned for two minutes ago when her smile had lit up the room. It wasn't the first time he'd made a woman upset – as Noah _or_ as Dr. Puckerman – but it was the first time that he'd wanted to do something about it. But what? He couldn't very well change the results of the first set of blood work nor could he lock the door and screw her brains out. Could he?

"Well, I suppose. But I don't have time to sit around waiting for Paige to pick her tongue up off the floor, though."

Puck smirked in response, thinking of a good alternative. "They say if you want something done right, you should do it yourself." He opened one of the drawers and pulled out two latex gloves, maneuvering his hands into the tight material. "I'll do it."

"Well I suppose it was just a matter of time." He lifted one of his eyebrows up in question. "For you to find new ways to poke me."

Rachel giggled at her own joke, or maybe his resulting chuckle. She'd never been very funny, but then again he brought out other sides of her that she'd also placed in the category of _I never_. Plus, he seemed to enjoy her slips of sense of humor. Not to mention the other slips of uncommon behavior.

"Well, unlike last Friday, try to hold still this time, eh?" He grinned at her rolling eyes, pulling out a few vials and moving the stool up to her chair. He could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek, and after he wrapped the syringe around her upper arm and wiped some antiseptic on the inside of her elbow, he stopped and knocked his index finger against her chin. "Relax."

Rachel nodded, oddly enough instantly at ease. It had been such a small gesture, but her fear of the needle that he'd just stuck into the vein in her arm didn't even register as she focused on him. He was being completely gentle, so unlike how he'd been last week. She knew she wasn't supposed to wonder, but she couldn't help but try to picture if he could ever be the same in bed – or life. Soft. Slow. Intimate.

"About last week …" She trailed off, not quite sure what to say. "I don't typically do things like that."

"You mentioned that."

"Yes, right, but … I just meant …" She bit her lip, watching the transfusion instead of looking at him. "You don't have to worry … about me. I-I really am on the pill."

"I know." Puck took a second to run his eyes over her face, catching her gaze for a moment that he hoped put to bed any fears Rachel may have had about him. He certainly wasn't a saint, nor did he have a vasectomy like was rumored in high school, but he was typically very careful when it came to sex. Rachel wasn't the first woman he'd gone bareback with, but she was the first that he trusted so quickly to do so. Santana had called him crazy, but he knew Rachel wasn't the type of person who'd trap a guy with a pregnancy. It might be one thing on a short list of things he knew, but it was there nonetheless. "It's in your chart."

Rachel bobbed her head, desperately needing to change the subject. "You're taking more than Paige did."

Puck fumbled into his next lie, which was very unlike him. "Yea, uh … I'm just taking more in case the, um, the lab messes up again."

She nodded absently, holding the gauze to the wound as he removed the needle. He went back over to the counter and wrote on the vials of blood he'd taken. When he came back, he removed the gauze and placed a bandage over the area just in case. He flipped a switch on the wall next to her, and in less than a minute Santana appeared in the room.

"Take these to the lab for testing."

Rachel tried to hide her surprise at his icy tone, the interaction she'd noticed between the two prior always having a sense of camaraderie. Today, however, the two were obviously at odds, and she wondered for a moment whether it had anything to do with her. Perhaps Santana was jealous. After all, she wasn't wearing a wedding ring and Rachel was already all too aware how many of the female workers looked at Puck. She was likely not the only one who found herself under his spell.

"Yes, your majesty."

Puck ignored her snarky commentary, knowing he'd have to deal with her later. She was _again_ joining him at Bar Nine with the guys after Mike had called him telling him Brittany would be there again. He'd also told him to prepare for the wives club to wreck the fun again, apparently Tina and Quinn curious to know what came out of his sudden exit last week. Typically he'd tell them every graphic detail (just because he was a dick who got some satisfaction in watching them squirm), but for the first time he wasn't looking forward to gloating about his conquest. Why, he wasn't sure, but he knew better than to think about it for long.

"The labs will be sent out this afternoon and then tested on Monday, probably. You should expect a call mid to late in the next week."

"Oh." Rachel bit her lip, lifting her eyes from the bandage to him. "So, we … uh … we don't need to meet again?"

"Let's just get one thing done right first," he sidestepped, knowing that typically he would set up a follow-up appointment but this time he wanted to have more than three minutes to review the results before meeting with her. And, if the results were a bit more definitive than what they'd been before, then he'd have to decide if _he_ even wanted to be the one to tell her. There were four other doctors in the office; Puck was sure he could switch Rachel for a different patient, or even two new ones.

"Sure." Rachel bobbed her head, stepping off the patient's chair when Puck moved to open the room door. He held it open for her, and when she walked through the frame she saw Santana waiting on the other side. Neither Santana nor Puck made a move to follow Rachel to the lobby, so she shuffled her feet and turned her attention back to her doctor-come-lover. "I … I'll talk to you later?"

Puck nodded noncommittally. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Noah." Rachel looked away from him, quickly adding, "Have a good evening, Santana."

"Laters." Santana waited until Rachel checked out and then walked out of the office room before grabbing Puck's arm and dragging him back into the examination room. "What the hell?"

"What?"

"_Noah_?"

Puck rolled his eyes; he didn't have time for this. "It's my name."

"Uh, yes. _I_ know that." Her arms flailed to her sides. "But I'm like, one of few. _Sam_ doesn't even know!"

"Wow. You haven't pulled the jealousy thing since high school." He looked her up and down, an amused smile on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You wanna pee on me to mark your territory?"

"This isn't about me, asshole." Santana mirrored his stance, shaking her head slightly. "This is about you not being able to do your job because you're obviously starting to care about her."

"You should have looked at the chart!"

Santana blinked in surprise, the ferocity of his words hitting her less than the fact that he didn't deny caring about Rachel. It had only been two weeks since the two met, and only a week since they'd obviously screwed each other senseless. If the chick could have that much power over Puck that quickly, then Santana wondered how long it would take for him to even realize how much of a change she was making in him. Knowing Puck, he'd probably be living with her and not even know it.

"She likes you, you know?"

"They always do."

Santana rolled her eyes at his standard cockiness. Just like she feared – completely clueless. He was so determined to keep everything exactly the same that he hadn't even figured out that nothing was the same anymore.

"Yea, but you don't usually like them back."


	9. Casually Meeting New People

**Author's Note:** Again, I meant to do this much sooner. After all, you guys deserve the fast update because YOU ROCK with the reviews. Seriously. I MIGHT be crazy enough to offer a prize to a random reviewer this time around since I'll hit the awesome 100th review sometime during this round, but we'll see. For now, I just want to take this time to give an extra shout out to Jann who helped fill in the major gaps to this story for me. You're swell, baby.

Lastly, this is as good of time as any to tell you that some of the places I am referencing are in fact REAL. The theater, Bar Nine, Social, both Rachel's and Puck's apartment complexes ... they are all WHERE I am saying they are and the apartments have been described as close to accurately as is possible from floor plans and such I've found online (yes, I'm that much of a loser to check that stuff), but I want to say this IS fiction. So, don't believe everything you read. And, you know, no harm intended if you know these places or whatever. Just playin' around, peeps.

**Disclaimer:** The song referenced with the few accompanying lyrics is not mine. No infringement intended there either!

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><p>Rachel yelled across the room that she'd be there in a second, finishing the last touches of her makeup and checking her teeth in the vanity mirror before practically skipping to the door. She turned the knob and swung the door open, rolling her eyes at Kurt. He had his eyes covered with both hands, a teasing smile on his face.<p>

"Is it safe?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she chastised, reaching out and pulling his hands away from his eyes. The two friends silently called truce, and Kurt stepped to the side to properly introduce his brother to Rachel. It hadn't been necessary for him to move, though, the tall gentleman clearly visible over Kurt's five-ten frame. And what Rachel could see, she liked.

"Rachel, this is my stepbrother, Finn. Finn, this is Rachel."

"Hey," he greeted lightly, waving casually. "You were awesome."

"Thank you." Rachel blushed, though she wasn't sure if it was because of the compliment or in reaction to the obvious way she'd been staring. He looked ridiculously good, a buttoned-up dark red dress shirt hiding under what looked to be a real leather jacket. Absently she wondered if it had been a gift from Kurt, and then her eyes traveled lower and she noticed that Finn had finished his ensemble with a pair of khaki dress pants and scuffed up Converse sneakers; there was no question that Kurt took _every_ opportunity to help with Finn's wardrobe that he could.

"If you're ready, I figured we could go to Social. It's close and there's karaoke tonight."

Rachel lifted her index finger up and pointed to Kurt sternly. "Fair warning, I will not be participating."

"We'll see." Kurt grinned wickedly. "You might change your tune after a few cocktails."

"The last thing I need to do tonight is get drunk."

"Why? Wouldn't it be fitting?" If possible, his smile widened. "I mean, you're already pretending to have no recollection of _last_ Friday, so what's one more?"

"I loathe you," she answered curtly, closing her dressing room door and linking arms with Blaine instead of both men like she normally did. "I don't know how you stand him."

"Some days it's a struggle," Blaine answered cheekily, the two laughing when Kurt swatted at Blaine's back. It was a short trip to the bar, which was one of the main reasons they went to it. It was a little trendier than some of the closer dive bars, but it had a low-key atmosphere that encouraged Rachel to let loose more than she usually did. She didn't worry about who else was in attendance or about her schedule or routine. When she went out with her friends, she did her best to enjoy herself.

Rachel was not the most popular girl in high school, ranked closer to the least popular girl. She'd gone to public school for ninth grade in hopes of getting the true high school experience. But, what she found out was that, for her, the true experience was a mix of torture of cruelty. The only person who talked to her was a creepy, nerdy kid she knew from temple, and even he ran with his tail between his legs whenever the popular kids would swarm on her, which they always did.

After that she spent the next three years in a special fine arts school. Her fathers had paid extra for her to attend, and Rachel figured it would be the best of both worlds. She wouldn't be wasting her time taking art or gym or the other nonsense they'd required in public school, and she'd be surrounded with peers who had the same musical aspirations as she did. But that hadn't been the case. She had been able to avoid the bullying, but Rachel never really made any friends. Everyone was intimidated by her talent, and ridiculed her for her dreams of going to Julliard and staring in a Broadway play. She'd had the last laugh two years ago at the 10-year reunion, but it hadn't made those three years any easier.

It wasn't until college that Rachel really came into her own, learning how to balance her aspirations with a bit of grace. Jesse had been a big part of that, which was probably why she'd kept hoping their relationship would eventually work out. She'd been able to see what it was like to be around someone who thought they were better than everyone else, and while Rachel had learned she didn't want to be like that, Jesse never learned the lesson. When Rachel claimed that she wouldn't give up the friendships she'd made for anything, Jesse had called her weak and undetermined.

"So, Finn," Rachel began, not wanting to waste anymore time thinking about Jesse or even high school. "Kurt said that you used to work for Teachers Without Borders. That's quite admirable."

"Thanks."

Rachel blinked and shifted her eyes to Blaine and then Kurt who just laughed lightly. Apparently she'd have to try a little harder, and they already knew this. "Have you always wanted to be a teacher?"

"Nah." Finn shrugged. "I wasn't sure what I wanted to do after high school. I got a basketball scholarship for Ohio State, but I wasn't great. Just tall." He shrugged again. "We had a teacher in high school who was really cool. My dad died when I was a baby, so Mr. Schue was the guy I looked up to, and I thought it would be sweet if some kid grew up and said the same about me."

"He got divorced. Did I tell you that?" Kurt commented, Rachel watching Finn's face fall. "Dad told me. Apparently he wrecked his car the night everything was finalized. Dad gave him a deal, but …" He trailed off, not much else to say after that.

The group entered the bar and grabbed a booth in the corner. Blaine proclaimed that the first round was on him before he went to place their orders, knowing everyone's but Finn's, who just wanted a beer. Rachel sat next to Kurt and across from Finn, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two brothers as they continued to talk about other things that dealt with their high school. Finn had missed the reunion since he'd been in South America, but Kurt wasted little time in giving him all the gossip, spanning from what certain people were doing, who had kids, who was fat, who was hooking up, and everything in between.

"You are terrible, Kurt," Rachel finally remarked after one particularly bitchy comment. "I'm sure that woman would not appreciate you spreading rumors of her affair to anyone willing to listen to you."

"Well excuse me if it is the freshest gossip I have since _someone_ refuses to reveal the secrets of Friday's past."

Rachel blushed, moving her attention to Blaine, who just placed a very pink drink in front of her. It was one of her favorite drinks but she refused to order it by name, so she was grateful that Blaine had done the hard work for her. She lifted the highball to her lips, taking the first tentative sip and then a longer one immediately after, coughing slightly in response. "Blaine Warbler! This is _very _strong."

"It should be. It's doubled." She glared at him, which only made him laugh harder. "Time to let your hair down, baby."

"I thought your last name was Anderson?" Finn questioned, fiddling with the label on his bottle.

"It is." Kurt rolled his eyes, his voice full of restless humor. "Rachel overheard a _private_ conversation about Blaine's past in a glee club and thinks she's funny bringing it up whenever she can."

"I am funny," she defended quickly, taking another long drink of her beverage. The ice shifted back into place as she lifted her eyes up to Finn. "You think I'm funny, don't you, Finn?"

"Anyone who busts Kurt's balls is OK in book." Rachel giggled in delight, finishing her drink about the same time the woman on stage finished her karaoke number of _I Will Survive_. She groaned unappreciatively, eyeing Blaine who immediately shook his head and then looked to Kurt, who did the same. "Come on! I have to rest my voice for the show. You guys can sing!"

"Finn can sing," Kurt offered.

"You can?" Rachel tried to hide her surprise, but the screech of excitement she let out made it all too clear. Her eyes were wide and hopefully not too scary, her torso leaning across the table so she could speak a little softer. "I want to hear!"

"I haven't sung in forever."

"I convinced him to be in glee club with me senior year. He was the male lead."

"Were you the female?" Rachel asked easily, earning a high-five from Blaine and a drawn out "Ohhhh!" from Finn.

Kurt merely rolled his eyes in response, taking that moment to give a play by play of everything that had been terrible about their high school glee club. Finn, Kurt, and Blaine talked in circles about the merits of a good high school show choir long enough for Rachel to have another doubled drink. Given that she ate dinner at five thirty and had only eaten a salad, it was safe to say that she was more than tipsy. She knew it, Kurt and Blaine knew it, and the random guy she'd danced with during a particularly terrible rendition of _Like a Virgin_ definitely knew it.

"Diva!" Kurt smiled at the guy whose hands were on Rachel's hips, accepting the glare as he pulled the petite brunette away from the dance floor. "You aren't making the best first impression." Rachel frowned, yelling her apologies to the man that was now walking away to find another girl to dance with. "Not him. With Finn."

"Oh." Rachel blinked, staring over Kurt back at the table. Finn was talking with Blaine, his hands moving animatedly and his emotions playing all over his face. He was undeniably handsome, and had been a perfect gentleman all night. Kurt was right to deem him the All-American boy, as he was not only clean cut and polite, but he was also very childlike in his expressions and mannerisms. It was cute. "He's adorable."

"But?"

"But he doesn't seem to want to talk to me."

"He just takes time to get to know people," he defended lightly before adding, "Besides, last time I checked, you weren't looking for someone to talk to."

Rachel swatted at Kurt's chest, rolling her eyes at her friend. "That's positively disgusting. And inaccurate, I'll have you know." She bit her lip, the alcohol working its magic in that it let her mind not wander. "Just because I haven't been able to find a man who can handle all my neurosis as well as my demanding schedule doesn't mean I've given up looking."

"Waiting."

"Precisely," Rachel said, then frowned. "Wait, no. I'm not just waiting around for Mr. Right." Rachel stomped away from Kurt, heading back to the table and sitting in the spot next to Finn instead of where she'd been before. She waited until Blaine finished his sentence – she should have known they were talking about sports; Kurt definitely didn't provide the male companionship that Blaine clearly sometimes needed and Finn definitely looked to be the type who could fill in that gap- before completely barging into the conversation. "Do you guys think it is possible to sustain a casual relationship?"

Finn choked on his drink, and Blaine looked stunned before he could answer. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Is it possible? No strings attached?"

"Rachel!" Kurt admonished when he caught up to the tiny woman and the conversation she'd obviously started. "Drink some water!"

"I don't need any water, Kurt. I'm perfectly sober. This is research!" She eyed Finn. "Have you ever partaken in casual sex?"

"Uh … er … um …" Finn looked at his stepbrother then at Blaine then back at the woman sitting next to him. "Sure. I mean, I guess, in college."

"Frat boy?" Finn nodded at her bemused question. "But those were one-night stands, right? I'm talking about a casual _relationship_. Something that occurs over a period of time longer than one night."

"Well that doesn't sound casual to me."

"Me either," Blaine agreed.

"But it isn't a relationship either," Kurt quickly added, knowing where the conversation was coming from. Rachel scowled at him, flipping her hair and leaning her head against her hand. She blew out a heavy breath, the entire day catching up to her quickly. Everything with Puck seemed to fade away into that same foggy area it had been in before last Friday, and now Finn was thrown into the picture as a completely new gray area.

"So, Finn," she segued abruptly, forcing herself not to think about it any longer. "Frat boy … singer … teacher. You are a Jack of many trades." With a glint in her eye that might or might not have been the vodka, Rachel grinned widely. "This is New York and we don't just let any ole' riff-raff in here. Show me some talent."

For a bumbling, endearing guy, Finn's resulting smirk was all too smooth. Maybe it was his blood alcohol level catching up to him as well that made him seem so suave, but when Kurt saw his stepbrother's eyes roam over Rachel, he immediately cut through the moment. "Singing, Finn," he sneered, clicking his fingers between the two. "Singing will be the _only_ talent you will show her tonight. Let's go."

Rachel clapped merrily as Kurt dragged Finn out of the booth and toward the stage, not really even noticing the moment of animosity shared between the siblings. The two men looked through the catalogue of available songs, and even in the distance Rachel saw an evil smirk spread across Kurt's face just in time for him to wave Blaine over. He pointed to a song in the book and Blaine laughed out loud, nodding his head in agreement. All three shifted their gazes to Rachel and despite her initial excitement she could feel her stomach drop in dread.

The three men spent a few more moments plotting while the owner got their song ready. They lined up in a row on stage and turned one at a time once the opening bars of their choice number started. It took Rachel only about four notes to recognize the song and three more after that to start laughing hysterically – but not before she noticed Kurt's pointed look tossed her way. Color Me Badd's wonderfully awful _I Wanna Sex You _Up hummed from the speakers, Blaine taking the lead on the first verse of vocals.

_Come inside, take off your coat_

_I'll make you feel at home_

_Now let's pour a glass of wine_

'_Cause now we're all alone_

_I've been waiting all night_

_So let me hold you close to me_

'_Cause I've been dyin' for you, girl_

_To make love to me_

While all three men definitely had stage presence, Kurt had the sex appeal of a toaster and Finn looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. She wasn't certain if it were the song choice or because he hadn't sung in a long time, but it didn't matter either way. He looked good on stage, and Rachel wasn't the only one who noticed. It was nearing midnight and everyone in the bar was feeling at least marginally better than when they'd entered, and the female patrons had certainly perked up when three attractive men who didn't sound like a cat being run over started singing on stage. She was surprised no one threw their undergarments on stage, but she did see Blaine have to break the news to at least one woman on their way back that she was not his type.

Kurt had a sheen of sweat on his forehead when he approached the table. "It was either that or George Michael's _I Want Your Sex_."

"Yea, and that song's ga-" Finn stopped, his eyes widening just a bit. "Stupid."

Rachel laughed at the look shared between the two men. "And _that_ song isn't?"

"Finn sang it in high school." Kurt laughed as Finn's cheeks reddened. "He had a brief stint in our teachers' boy band, Acafellas." The three laughed loudly together at Finn's expense, the latter only able to quiet them down when he mentioned the time and how Kurt had wanted to leave before midnight. "Unfortunately, he's right. We should get going since we have to get up early tomorrow for church."

"Church?" Finn questioned even as he stood with everyone else. "I thought you were taking me to some stupid fashion thing?"

"That's what I said." Kurt winked at his brother, his smile intended for Rachel. "Church."

The petite brunette giggled in amusement, moving to kiss Kurt on the cheek and then Blaine as well. She stepped back and tilted her head up to better see Finn, smiling gently at the taller man. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Finn. I'm sure we'll see more of each other now that you've moved here."

"Cool." He was a man of few words, but for some reason they all made her heart flutter.

"Cool," she echoed, smiling shyly before walking past him and through the door Blaine was holding open. She waved bye to him and Kurt again and then started to make her way down the road until she heard her name being called. She furrowed her brows and turned, surprised to see Finn jogging up to her. "What's the matter?"

"You shouldn't be walking home alone." Rachel blinked once. "It could be dangerous."

"I … I don't live far," she finally responded, thinking that was the most logical thing to say. Thanking him for proving that chivalry wasn't dead certainly didn't seem like the right move, nor did it seem necessary to mention that she walked home along _at night_ after every performance at the theater for the past four years. "You should ride with Kurt and Blaine. You just moved here."

"I'll find my way home." He turned and tossed a wave back to Kurt, who just seemed to nod appreciatively before getting into the backseat of the cab Blaine had reserved. He didn't seem worried that Finn was only walking Rachel to her place in hopes of making good on her hypothetical question from earlier, so Rachel didn't dwell on it either. It was a five or so block walk to her place, and it would be nice not to have to cross the street every time she saw someone approaching her on the sidewalk.

"So, are you excited about moving here? I'm from Ohio, too – though a different part – and I know all too well how suffocating the small-town life can be. Plus, it must be a complete change from South America. I can't even imagine. New York is going to be a big change for you. The city is so alive and full of energy. I mean, look at it!" She gestured around them. "It's just shy of midnight and the streets are still flooded with people. Restaurants packed. Lights on at every turn. It's magical!"

"Yea." Finn smiled at her enthusiasm and she hoped he found her rambling to be endearing and not crazy. She wasn't crazy. Despite what _some_ people said, one of which she really hadn't thought about much this evening until now – aside from the theoretical conversation. It was funny thinking about how she'd felt safe with Puck and how it had thrown her off considering she barely knew him, because walking home now with Finn she felt the same way. He certainly wasn't as built as Puck nor did Finn possess any real amount of intimidation, but she felt like he could take care of her. And, maybe unlike Puck, Rachel felt like Finn actually would want to.

"Thank you very much for walking me home, Finn," she said as they approached her building, Rachel stopping outside the main doors. "And I hope you had fun this evening."

"I did." Finn looked down at his shoes for a second and then, without warning, leaned into her space and placed a delicate kiss on her cheek. He pulled back almost instantly, a sheepish smile on his face before he whispered, "Thanks."

Rachel watched him hail a cab and show the driver the piece of paper that she imagined had Kurt and Blaine's address on it. Once he was out of sight, she turned and walked into her building, hitting the button on the elevator and then stepping inside. As she waited for her floor, Rachel's hand came up to touch her cheek, a shy smile crossing her face when she felt the warmth of her blush and the kiss mixed together under her touch. Finn's embrace had been soft and tender, not quite enough to set her on fire.

But it wasn't casual, either.


	10. The Things We Do for Sex

**Author's Note:** I really, really, really shouldn't be posting because I really, _really, **REALLY**_ need to be writing, but I can't help it. You guys are just so awesome with the feedback that I can't help but want to update and see what you think. So, keep it coming. I've said it to some of you and I'll say it here, "You review, I'll write." Simple as that. :)

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><p>Puck stretched out of his seat, looking at his watch and noting how much of his life he'd never get back. It wasn't that the musical wasn't good, but he'd seen the Disney movie with his little sister way back when and it had been a lot shorter, not to mention cartoonish. The actual musical had way more songs and wasn't nearly as entertaining – at least not the half he'd seen. Apparently the first act was even longer than the second, which really pissed him off that he paid full price for a ticket even though he only saw the second act. Normally money wasn't really an issue with him, and the matinee tickets were cheaper than the ones for the night showings, but now he was basically <em>paying<em> for sex and that shit wasn't kosher.

But, it also wasn't stopping him from moving through the theater and toward the line of tables where some of the cast were sitting for autographs and pictures. He could hear her infectious laughter from the back of the line, and he did his best to remind himself that he was here simply to fill a need. Using the druggie metaphor that Santana had so wonderfully planted in his head, he was an addict that was about an hour away from relapsing – twice if there was time. He'd stayed away Friday and Saturday, which was harder than even he wanted to admit. The withdraw symptoms were actually not unlike what he knew happened to people who tried to kick their drug habits, Puck finding himself shaky and anxious during the course of the last two days.

And what for? To prove Santana wrong? Who cared if she was right? So he couldn't fuck Rachel out of his system. They were two consenting adults who both agreed to keep it light. No harm, no foul. And so what if he liked her? He thought Santana was pretty cool and funny in high school and they did it all the time but were never really boyfriend and girlfriend. This was the same thing. He could think Rachel was simply a good person, both in life and in bed. It didn't _have_ to mean anything.

Puck passed the guy who'd played the Beast/Prince as well as the douche villain guy before getting to her table. "Sign my boobs?"

Rachel's head snapped up, her eyes eventually rolling when she focused on his face. She'd recognized the voice instantly, which was weird considering she didn't exactly know him from his conversational skills. It was distinct, though, shooting through her so quickly that her heart leapt into her throat and rendered her voice useless. Mercedes, however, was sitting next to her and had no problem filling in the silence.

"Why hello, Mr. M.D."

Puck returned her smile, recognizing the face but not quite able to place the name. He knew without asking that they hadn't had sex; typically those women didn't greet him with so much enthusiasm. Not unless it was a recent lay and he hadn't given them the slip yet, but he'd definitely remember her if that was the case. Puck was organized in that sense, never wanting anyone to fall through the cracks. Still, he was fairly certain he'd hit on her whenever they had met - it was almost a guarantee for him – so he faked recognition and turned on the charm.

"You rocked that shit," he commented lightly, gesturing back toward the stage. It seemed to satisfy the black woman, who just smiled at him and then moved on to the rest of the people in line hoping she'd sign their playbill or whatever else they had on hand. He realized he was sort of holding up the line of people trying to squeeze in and see Rachel, so he stepped off to the side but continued to engage her in conversation. "But you were way better."

"Thank you." Rachel blushed, leaning forward and signing an autograph for a little girl who said she was going to be Belle for Halloween. Rachel humored the young child and her mother for a few moments, her attention eventually moving back to Puck. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"S'different from the cartoon."

"You've seen the cartoon?" She asked bemused.

"Little sister," he explained, her eyes widening a little before she bent her head back down to sign her name for someone. Puck noticed that she always seemed surprised when he let information about himself pass into conversation, and he was glad he wasn't the only one. What the hell was going on? She already knew his real name; did she need to know his damn family tree, too? "I only saw the second part, though."

"Well if you only came for the second act, then I suppose I don't need to ask what you're here for," she commented absently, signing one last autograph before the director dismissed everyone. Rachel stood from her chair, biting her lip as she finally rested her focus solely on Puck. He looked almost offended by her comment, which made her nervous. "Do I?"

"I was actually wonderin' if you'd like to go to that meal we never got around to."

Rachel was again rendered speechless, giving Mercedes another opportunity to chime in. "Better late than never."

"Never truer than for orgasms and periods."

"You're absolutely vile," Rachel groaned, her eyes lifting in exasperation while her mind briefly wandered to two nights ago. Even with a few drinks circulating through both of them, her and Finn's conversation had never taken such a disgusting turn. Aside from that one moment where he'd thought she was propositioning him for sex, but even _that_ had been caused by Puck … technically. She would never have questioned anyone about a casual relationship if she hadn't been engaging in one with the very man standing in front of her. Before _him_ the thought wouldn't have even occurred to her!

"Yea, but you dig it."

Mercedes giggled at her friend's expense, hugging Rachel goodbye before waving at Puck and then walking away. The two well-acquainted strangers stared at one another for a few moments before Rachel just sighed and asked him to wait fifteen minutes. Raised to be the most accommodating hostess ever, she'd almost invited him to wait in her dressing room, but she remembered how well that had worked out _last _time. And even though she certainly didn't regret the results, she wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't interested in seeing if they could actually make it through dinner without killing each other or ripping each other's clothes off. After all, taking out all the conversation they've had with him as her doctor and she as his patient and then the almost-pickup lines they tossed back and forth between them, Rachel wasn't even sure they'd spoken more than a few words to each other.

That wasn't even casual. That was _nothing_.

"Freshening up?" Mercedes asked jokingly when she followed Rachel into the dressing room. Being the star in a Broadway musical for the past four years gave Rachel time to adjust to having no privacy. She didn't exactly have the paparazzi following her around everywhere she went – _yet_ – but she'd learned long ago how to dress and undress when she wasn't exactly alone. Sometimes there was a curtain or at least a pseudo wall of some kind – her dressing room had one of those decorative privacy panels - but the theater was not the place for modesty. "I wouldn't bother with a shower. I think homeboy's looking to get dirty."

"Mercedes," Rachel chastised lightly, stepping out of the show's final dress and adding it to the small pile of costumes that would need cleaned before the next show. "While history isn't exactly on my side, he seemed quite civil in his dinner invitation."

"Yea yea, that's how they getcha."

"Well I wouldn't know."

"Oh, you wouldn't?" Mercedes teased, going further inside the room. "Because rumor is _you_ have dinner plans with Kurt, Blaine, and _Finn_ for Tuesday night." Rachel groaned loudly, silently wishing her friends weren't friends with each other as she changed into the skirt and shirt she'd come to work in. "And you know what they say? If it smells like a double date, and looks like a double date …"

"It's not a date." Rachel was firm, making sure that was clear. "It is merely four friends going out. A date is between two people."

"So are you and Dr. Love going on a date?"

Rachel's mouth slacked open, her voice letting one syllable loose before completely closing in on itself. A date? With Puck? That almost seemed like an oxymoron. And yet … entirely intriguing. Maybe her hypothetical conversation with Finn, Blaine, and Kurt was about to be tested. Perhaps a casual relationship wasn't possible. If it lasted longer than one night, then there were clearly _some_ feelings involved. Those feelings didn't have to mean to death do us part, but they were there. And that meant something … or at least _could_ mean something, right?

"Let's find out," she finally answered, a smirk dancing onto her face before she grabbed her purse and left the room. Mercedes didn't bother to follow, which was good because Rachel really didn't want to explain why she almost tripped over herself when she saw Puck standing by the door waiting for her. She'd known he was there, but her mind still couldn't wrap itself around the idea. He'd come to see her. He … _missed_ her?

"Your skirts get shorter and shorter every time I see you."

"Well, maybe you should stop by more often. See what happens."

Puck grinned, nodding his head lightly as he walked through the theater's entrance, holding the door open for her. While she was changing, he'd called a local restaurant and reserved a table. It wasn't really necessary on Sunday when it was barely six o'clock, but it was New York. Plus, chicks liked to hear that reservations were made because it made everything seem planned and organized. Puck, on the other hand, didn't want to waste time waiting around when they could sit, eat, and then get to the good stuff. Dessert, if you will.

They walked the few blocks to the restaurant and were sat immediately. They chatted idly about the weather and nearby places they both knew. She asked him what he'd done during the weekend and he questioned her about the musical. The whole thing was completely comfortable, natural. During the course of the dinner Rachel had asked him so many questions that he felt like he was on _Jeopardy_, but he'd also answered most of them. She was easy to talk to, and surprisingly easy to listen to. When he'd first met her, he'd known she had a lot to say, but what he learned was that she was a great storyteller. She was enthusiastic and animated about everything, often having anecdotes to accompany her stories.

Rachel, similarly, was surprised by their interaction at dinner. Nothing felt forced nor was there even a moment of awkward silence between them. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help but draw the parallel between tonight with Puck and Friday night with Finn. Both evenings had been pleasant, but talking with Puck was just easier. He was still a little closed off, but Puck had been less guarded during their conversation than she'd ever experienced or would have expected. It wasn't like pulling teeth like she thought it would be – like it had been with Finn. In fact, without even realizing it, three hours went by before they finally left the restaurant, agreeing to go back to his place.

"That was legit the best bacon cheeseburger I've had in a long time."

"Thank you very much for paying."

"I'll put it on your tab, babe," he leered, Rachel rolling her eyes in response. "'Sides, you only ordered a dinky salad. So much for not being like every other chick."

Rachel scowled at the inference, matching his carefree stride instead of her usual fast-paced walk. "I happen to be vegan."

Puck literally stopped, Rachel walking a few steps ahead of him before realizing he wasn't at her side and turning. He wasn't sure why he felt so bad, but shoving his face with not just one dead animal but two seemed like a slap in the face when eating with a vegan. He thought she just got a salad because she was a girl, and maybe because of her job. Dancers have to stay fit and all, but then again she was more of a singer than a dancer. Not that she wasn't fit; he'd seen plenty of her body to know that wasn't the case.

"But, wait." He thought suddenly. "What about honey? Isn't that, like, a no-no?"

Rachel couldn't help but smile at his question, the two eventually stepping back in sync. "That's actually a hot topic with vegans, but even if I didn't need it to soothe my throat, I feel it's acceptable because it's the bee's life purpose to make honey."

"Like yours has something to do with taking over the world, one musical at a time?"

"Like yours has something to do with taking over the world one vagina at a time."

He chuckled at her joke, or maybe the cute, little crease on her forehead when she scowled at him. They walked into his apartment building and onto the elevator in the longest silence of the night, Rachel's arms crossing over her chest as she rested her back against the wall when the doors closed. He wasn't sure why, especially considering he knew it wasn't the most effective method of getting into a woman's pants, but there was something hot about Rachel being riled up. She was so passionate about everything, and maybe that clicked in his head about how passionate she was elsewhere.

"So," he began, testing the waters, "are you gonna be able to kiss me without thinking about a dead cow?"

"Don't forget the pig," she deflected, noticing his step closer but not wanting to react to it in any way. His body was close enough to hers that she was instantly brought back to their first time, how he'd confined her in this same small space and completely broken her resolve. He was doing it again, her skin flushing just in response to his proximity. He had a lazy smile on his face, his eyes hooded as he watched her. "A mint wouldn't kill you."

Puck pulled out a small tin of Altoids, shaking them in presentation before popping one into his mouth. He made a spectacle of freshening his breath, grinning at how she rolled her eyes even though she was doing her best to avoid looking at him. He stepped one foot closer, enough to have his body pressed against hers. His breath – now minty – danced over the skin of her neck, Rachel's eyes lifting to the top to see they were still ten floors away from the penthouse. If they'd gone to her place they'd be inside and in her bedroom already. Instead, she had to suffer inside this pressure cooker for at least another minute.

"Want one?" He questioned softly, moving his lips so they were just barely touching her ear. "They're curiously strong." He smirked, feeling her shudder. "Kinda like you."

It was completely ridiculous, and likely not the reason at all, but that was the final straw. Rachel uncrossed her arms and tossed them around his neck, delving her tongue inside his mouth. She curled her tongue around the remaining piece of mint left in his mouth, scooping it into her own along with his low moan of approval. She bit his lip softly on the release, her head falling back as he trailed his lips down the column of her throat. The tip of his tongue moved to probe her pulse point, and Rachel let out a high-pitched gasp almost simultaneously with the ding of the elevator as it reached the top floor.

Puck snaked his arms around Rachel's waist, pulling her out of the elevator and toward his apartment without removing his lips from her skin. She stumbled into him a bit and held tighter as she almost fell, the door to his place catching her with a heavy thud. With her balance restored, Puck suctioned his lips onto hers again, groaning in appreciation when her arms loosened from around his neck. They fell slowly down his torso, one hand searching his pants for his keys while the other searched his pants for something else entirely.

Rachel gasped when Puck pressed against her incessantly, his head dipping down to nip at her collarbone before he gripped her legs and forced her up. Instinctively she locked her ankles behind his back, a loan, throaty moan escaping when he rocked his hips against her. It was a challenge, but she managed to pry her eyes open long enough for her to remember that they still weren't in his apartment yet.

"Noah …" She was out of breath, and the way he bit the area where her neck and shoulder met and then licked away the pain wasn't helping. "Inside."

"Fuck, yes."

Even in a sexually intoxicated state, Rachel managed to roll her eyes, shaking her head from side to side when she felt one of his hands move off her ass to pull down his zipper. "Not _me_. Inside the _apartment_."

Puck growled, sliding his hands away from his crotch and into his pocket, retrieving the keys that Rachel had been searching for earlier. This was New York and even in a nice place like The Ellington, Puck had to unlock two different deadbolts and then the doorknob. Typically it was something he could do with his eyes closed, but finding the three different keys was a bit tougher when a smokin' hot girl was sucking on his earlobe. He damn near dropped them (and her) when she traced the outer shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue, ending the torture by tugging on the sensitive cartilage with her teeth.

"F-fuck," he stuttered, shoving the key into the last lock and turning the whole thing so the door swung open. The momentum pushed his body hard against hers, Rachel yelling out in ecstasy while re-tightening her legs' hold around him. Puck yanked the keys out of the doorknob then encircled her waist to peel her away from the door. He used his foot to kick the door closed, then pushed her back against the frame.

"Yes," she gasped out, nodding her head in agreement with herself and him. "Now."

Rachel's breath hitched when she felt him tear away her underwear, the oxygen coming out in a rush when a second later he entered her. He pounded into her so hard the door was actually shaking, but Rachel couldn't do anything but moan in pleasure. She was biting her lip to keep from screaming out loud, her toes curling when that familiar heat started to build. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wished they'd managed to remove more clothing from one another so she could feel more of his body against hers, but it was hard to find anything wrong with the current situation.

Rachel lifted her hands up to brace them on something, but came up empty. She applied more pressure to her back, and Puck used the extra leverage to his advantage. With one arm still holding her securely under her leg and across her ass, he lifted his other hand up. His fingers trailed over the sensitive skin on the underside of her arm, and she recoiled at his touch but her clasped his hand around both of hers and secured them back above her head. She hiccupped into the next thrust, what little of the blood she had left not circulating to her core flooding south when he'd pinned her hands to the door. For a girl who needed to be in control in so much of her life, she was entirely too aroused by Puck dominating her in this fashion.

He'd rendered her one leg useless by using it to help hold her up, but the other wrapped around him tighter, bringing him closer (as if it were possible) and effectively bringing _her_ closer to oblivion. The heat that had started to build earlier shot through every vein in her body, actually causing her to shiver. Her fingers interlaced with his as she clutched his hand and fell over the edge, Puck pressing her hands into the door harder and holding on just as tightly before he too succumbed to his orgasm. Entirely too spent to hold her up afterward, he let her legs fall unsteadily back to the floor. He let her hands fall down from above her head, but he didn't let go of her hand right away.

"I knew you liked the short skirts." She smiled when she felt his grin spread against the skin of her neck. "I just didn't realize how much."

"You're just lucky we made it inside." He dropped a kiss below her ear before pulling back, looking at her through half-closed lids. "You're gonna owe me for that."

Rachel beamed, letting him lead her to his bedroom by the hand that he still hadn't let go. "Put it on my tab, _babe_."


	11. Day Off from the Expected

**Author's Note:** The response to this story is crazy. Really, I can't get over how awesome you guys are. So, THANKS! Other than that, not much else to say besides ENJOY (and review!)!

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><p>Rachel's eyes fluttered open, her head turning so the side of her face rested against the pillow instead of the back of her head. The first thing she saw was his closet, open and with clothes in and around the hamper inside. There was already a trail of clothes inside the room as it was considering their activities last night, hers mixed with his in a way that was the 15-year-old girl's equivalent to putting her first name with his last name. It was entirely too messy for her taste, but there was something domestic about it that Rachel couldn't help but swoon.<p>

Lifting up onto her elbows, the sheet falling below her chest, she winced slightly at the ache she felt in her muscles. Eight shows a week paired with some exhausting extra-curricular activities with Puck had left Rachel's body rundown. Considering she had today off, it might be a good time to visit the massage therapist that Kurt had recommended. Or, she thought when the sound of running water penetrated her ears, perhaps all she needed was a nice, hot shower.

Paired with a nice, hot man.

She smiled to herself, scooting to the edge of the king-size bed and swinging her legs over the side. She padded closer to the bathroom door, using her index finger to move the solid piece of wood from being open just a crack to being open enough that she could squeeze inside. The steam from the shower surrounded her completely, and it was clear that Puck's water wouldn't suddenly turn cold. Before the fleeting thought about just using the other bathroom she'd noticed last night solidified, Rachel cleared her throat loudly.

"Room for one more?"

Puck pulled the shower curtain back just enough for his head to poke out, his eyes combing over her naked frame in welcome surprise before landing on her eyes. "There's probably room for three more. Or, like, six of you."

Rachel scoffed at the insinuation, prepared to defend her small stature, but then he pulled back the shower curtain completely and her throat suddenly went dry. It was all the steam, she reasoned, and couldn't have had anything to do with the sight of Puck under the shower's spray. After all, she'd seen him naked before so it shouldn't matter now that it just so happened that he was naked _and_ beads of water were running down his perfectly toned body.

"You comin'?"

"Bet you've never had to ask that before," she deflected, her cheeks burning by the time she finally stepped inside. He chuckled and puffed out his chest at the same time, Rachel finding it within herself to pry her eyes off him long enough to roll them. After a moment too long of silence, that voice in the back of her head scolded her for being so rash. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I barged in here like this. It was very invasive."

"Invasive?" He questioned comically, stepping a little more to the side as he reached out a hand to touch the curve of her waist, urging her toward the stream. "I've been inside you."

Rachel's blush deepened before she stepped into the water, hoping her wet hair would disguise her slight mortification at his words. She knew it was silly to be embarrassed by such a thing, and technically she wasn't. Maybe in high school, but now she was approaching thirty and the discussion of sex or even the act itself was something she knew was completely healthy and natural. Puck wasn't the first one to teach her that it didn't have to a big deal, but he was definitely the first one who'd been completely up front about that.

"Excuse me," she replied lightly, a smile on her lips as she felt his hands grow a little more incessant against her skin, moving from her waist down to her hip and then the curve of her ass. There wasn't much room between them to begin with, and if she dared to look down to where she felt his erection growing she'd see there was starting to be even less room. "Did you need something?"

Puck nodded, pulling her flush against him. Her usual bright eyes instantly clouded over in a haze of lust that he knew matched his own. Pressed against her so close, he could feel every cell of her body, and even though he knew the warm water worked magic on his aching muscles, he knew she wasn't reacting to just the heat. Her body hummed in response to his touch, her blood flowing freely under his fingertips. Sex had always made him feel good, in control, but there was something about being with Rachel that took it to an extreme. She was obviously a strong-willed woman and didn't shy away from being in charge, but when she so willingly handed him the reins it made him feel _powerful_. And, oddly enough, completely _out_ of control.

"I've wanted you in a shower since that first day we met."

His growl vibrated against the skin of her neck, his lips suctioned back below her ear and the column of his throat pressed against the side of hers. Without his penetrating gaze challenging her, Rachel let her eyes fall closed, her mouth opening on a quiet gasp when she felt his tongue swipe at the nape of her neck. She didn't know if her heart sped up because of his words or his actions, but she figured it was both. His ministrations paired with the admission that he'd been thinking of her like she had been thinking of him during that stint after they met and before they first got together pushed her from lustful to downright desperate.

"How … How do you want me?"

The bathroom was completely filled with steam from the shower, but Rachel knew the thick air had nothing to do with why she was suddenly so lightheaded. Puck had gripped her hips and turned her to face the far wall of the shower so quickly she actually felt dizzy. And the feel of his chest pressing tightly against her back wasn't helping. Her hands were braced on either side of her, holding her up as her entire body turned to putty when he peppered her back with light kisses. Her knees buckled when he started his trek back up, his tongue gliding up her spine one torturous vertebrae at a time.

"You ready?"

Rachel nodded impatiently, spreading her legs a little more in anticipation. "Born that way."

She gasped when he slid into her effortlessly, his hands curling over her hipbones when he was fully seated in her warmth. His movements at the beginning were precise, almost calculating. Thrust, 2, 3, thrust, 2, 3. She felt herself anticipating his next action, forcing herself back into him when the pressure started to build too much. She needed more friction, and Puck must have sensed her growing need because one of his hands left its spot on her hip and moved to the apex of her thighs. She mewled when his fingers flicked over her clit, Rachel using her hands' placement on the wall to push herself back harder against him

Puck's eyes rolled into the back of his head, her thrusts back into him growing more erratic and frantic by the second. After their exhausting activities from last night, he'd actually come into the shower completely spent – and that was after a full eight hours of sleep. But then she appeared in the bathroom and it didn't matter how tired he was; he had to have her. And now, having her, he didn't want to let go - but knew it was only moments away from happening. The feel of her surrounding him so completely, the sound of her hitched breath mixing with the white noise of the running water, the sight of her head craning back as she came undone … it all catapulted him to a new level of exhausted and completely alive that his body tingled even a minute later when he pulled out.

Rachel rested her forehead against the back wall, sucking in breaths as quickly as she could to regulate her breathing. Her eyes were closed tight but fluttered open when she felt Puck press up against her again, his lips soft and inviting on her shoulder. She tilted her head into his embrace, eventually catching his lips with hers, sliding her tongue languidly across his. She turned into the kiss, lifting her arms up with the intention of encircling his neck but the limbs were so heavy she settled for resting her hands on his forearms. It didn't take long for both of them to need to pull away for air, their eyes locking for the first time since she got into the shower.

"What are ya doin' today?"

She blinked at his question, her eyebrows furrowing in deeper confusion as she watched him pull back and turn the water off. He peeled the shower curtain back and grabbed a towel for her and then a towel for him, patting his face dry before circling the cloth around his waist and cinching it at his side. He stepped out of the stall while she wrung her hair as dry as she could, still thinking about his question as she wrapped the towel around herself in the same fashion that Puck had done, just higher so the fabric hit her mid thigh.

"Typically," she began, deciding that he was probably asking in a conversational sense instead of in a hopeful, let's-spend-the-day-together kind of way. "Laundry." She shrugged helplessly. "Monday is the only day the show is closed, so it's my day to catch up on everything I've put off the week before."

Puck nodded absently, trying to pretend like he didn't ask. He'd certainly never asked a chick what her plans for the rest of the day were before, and fuck if he had any idea why he blurted it out to Rachel. He chalked it up to just having an orgasm – he wasn't thinking clearly. It was a good excuse, as it also worked for why he _again _ended up waking up with her still in his bed, even if he did manage to keep her on one side while he remained on the other.

He grabbed his electric toothbrush and drew a line of toothpaste on the bristles before running the device underwater. His eyes caught hers in the mirror and even though she didn't say anything, he noticed her sheepish expression and knew what she was thinking. "Bottom drawer," he answered before starting to brush his teeth, watching her open the drawer and pick from the collection of new toothbrushes inside. He caught her eye again as she went through the same motions he had to prepare the cleaning utensil, and while there was absolutely no need, he found himself wanting to put her at ease, or at least defend himself. "Santana's dad is a dentist. He sends her a toothbrush and floss like every week. Shit's insane."

Rachel giggled at the explanation, inserting the toothbrush in her mouth and starting to clean away the germs. "So what do you do on Mondays that makes it so you can't work?"

"How do you know I don't work?" He asked, surveying her through the mirror.

Rachel stopped brushing, the reflection of him not good enough as she turned to face him. Undeterred by her confusion, Puck continued to brush his teeth as he waited for her answer, and she couldn't help but laugh and shake her head. Clearly he didn't remember _everything_ from their first meeting. Then again, it shouldn't surprise her that he'd only focused on the memories that had to do with sex. She followed his lead again and spit the toothpaste residue into the sink, using one of the small cups to rinse her mouth out before she looked back at him.

"At the doctor's office, I said I was off on Mondays and you said you were, too." She grinned as she watched the realization wash over his face. "What do you do?"

"I'll show you."

Again he blurted it out before he could censor himself, and the way her wide eyes danced after he said it made him unable to knock her down and declare 'Psyche' like he immediately felt like doing. The only thing he could do was get dressed and lead her to the destination as promised, kicking himself the whole way. They stopped at a small place nearby for something to eat since they'd missed breakfast and basically lunch, too, and then continued on. His usual quiet walk toward the park was spent with Rachel at his side commenting on every random thing, and unlike last night where she'd asked questions, today she was just going on and on about nothing. And it would have been entirely irritating if it wasn't really comforting for some unknown reason.

"A synagogue?" She finally questioned, her head lifting up more to take in the vision of the building before she turned to look at him. It had taken a lot for her not to ask him a million questions about where they were going; she was always more of a planner and it was unnerving to be with someone who so clearly was not. Puck lived life by the seat of his pants, acting spontaneous in so many aspects that it thrilled her when she thought it would frighten her. "I didn't know you were Jewish."

"Yea, we're both a couple of hot Jews."

"What makes you assume I'm Jewish?"

"You mean aside from your nose?"

Rachel gasped, her hand flying up to hide the offending body part, her head bowing in embarrassment at his resulting laughter. She'd asked Kurt the same question when he'd made a similar comment years ago and he'd said it was because she was cheap. When she asked Puck, she expected a similarly light response or maybe even something cut and dry about seeing it on her chart. She never thought he'd say something so openly harsh, so hurtful.

"Fuck, I'm kidding." Puck shook his head, holding the door open for her and waiting the extra moments it took her to walk inside before following her. "I mean, you do have a Jewish nose but that shit is hot." She stopped walking, Puck running into her. He noticed the question in her eyes and sighed, deciding not to continue on to the classroom until this was settled. "You have our heritage right on your face and there's nothing sexier than being proud about that."

Rachel had heard backpedaling before, but it never sounded quite so sincere. And while she knew Puck was a charmer, she actually thought he believed what he was saying, which was so … endearing. "You know Barbra Streisand refused to get a nose job and she still became one of the most successful entertainers of all time."

"I've always thought of Neil Diamond as my musical Jewish icon, but that's kind of badass," he remarked lightly, the two of them eventually moving through the hallway again until reaching the room Puck needed. He held the door open for her and then walked to the closet on the side wall, unlocking it and pulling out a guitar.

"I knew you played guitar!" He cocked an eyebrow up as he moved across the room, taking a seat in the pre-made circle of chairs and resting the instrument on his knee. Rachel followed him, taking the seat next to him and watching as he started to tune the guitar. "When I shook your hand goodbye after that first appointment, I noticed your fingers were callused. It's a clear indication that you played a string instrument of some kind and I didn't suspect you as the type of man who had an affinity for the harp."

Puck chuckled, shaking his head from side to side. "Not quite." He looked up from the guitar, grinning a little bit when her eyes didn't leave the instrument. If he didn't already know she had a career in music, he would now. "I used to be in a band."

"In high school?"

"And college, but different band. We usually just screwed around in the dorms and stuff, playing at parties to pick up chicks." Rachel rolled her eyes but continued to be engaged by the conversation. "I wrote a couple of songs and performed at some stupid open mic nights and shit like that. S'cool."

"You sing, too?" Rachel's eyes lit up, subconsciously moving to the edge of her seat. "Can I hear something?"

"I barely _play _anymore. I sure as shit ain't singin'."

"Oh, I'm sure you can," she encouraged, nodding her head enthusiastically. "In fact, I was just out on Friday with some friends. Kurt – you met him – and his partner Blaine and Kurt's brother. Kurt is trying to set us up and he revealed that his brother could sing. He told me he hadn't performed in a very long time, but eventually they all went on stage and performed a rather embarrassing song but he was surprisingly good. A little off key here and there, but if he really hadn't sang in as long as he said then …"

"Wait." Puck stopped tuning the guitar, lifting his right hand up closer to her mouth to mime for her to stop talking. "You … you went out with this guy?"

Rachel stared blankly for a second. "I didn't _go out_ with him. We all went out … together."

There was a long moment of silence that passed between the two of them, Rachel spending much of the time wondering why she was justifying her evening out with Finn to Puck. It wasn't like they were dating. Puck had made it perfectly clear that this wasn't a relationship, and she wasn't naïve enough to think he wasn't hanging out with other women, too. Granted, she tried _not_ to think about that possibility, so maybe it wasn't the best idea for her to bring Finn up in Puck's presence.

"Hey, Puck!"

A small child entered the room eagerly, cutting through the adult moment as he threw his backpack down by the wall and scurried over to the circle of chairs. Another handful of children followed, ranging in age from somewhere close to seven to anywhere up to sixteen. They all talked to Puck at the exact same time, some noticing Rachel (the three older boys) but none caring. She was able to pick up her chair and move it out of the circle and into the closest corner without even interrupting the group's conversation.

It took several minutes for Puck to get through all the formalities of catching up with every single kid, but then he got them all to sit down with their instruments. Most had a guitar, one kid had placed a keyboard in his lap, and another boy was just sitting in the group, ready to sing she guessed. She once again tried to stop herself from drawing the comparison, but she couldn't help but note the similarity; it wasn't exactly Teachers Without Borders, but it was admirable in its own regard. Maybe more so, as Puck volunteered here whereas Finn was paid for his work in South America.

Puck spent the next hour working with the kids. It wasn't anything formal, as he certainly didn't have training on the guitar or with children. He'd learned guitar completely on his own in middle school, and the kids … well they were just cool. Their faith bonded them, but it was also easy for Puck to help them with girl issues and school shit and things like that because he'd been there. It didn't matter that he was from small-town Ohio and these kids were from all over the city; things like finding out your girl cheated on you with your best friend were universal – for some guys, anyway. Puck was usually on the other side of that particular predicament, but he'd learned his lesson either way and knew how to help a kid out if they came to him looking for advice.

Then again, who was he to be giving any advice? He was currently screwing a chick who had just told him that she was messing around with other dudes, too. Again, Puck was usually on the other side of that situation, so he didn't know how to react. It was a problem that happened with Rachel a lot. When he first decided that he was going to have to fuck her, he'd been worried she was going to be clingy. She was crazy and looked like the stalker type. But, she wasn't. He knew it wasn't something she'd ever done, and yet she was fuckin' awesome at it. Until now that thought had kind of gotten him excited, like what else could she'd never done but be awesome at - can anyone say threesome?

But … now … it was weird. He didn't want her to be suffocating and shit, but he didn't want her fucking other guys, either. Was there a way to express that without making it sound like he was looking to take their relationship to the next level? Because fuck that. Puck only had one level. Sex. Anything before that was foreplay and anything after that was nonexistent. He'd already made an exception of epic proportion by screwing her more than once, which sort of made it so she like, owed him. He was treating her to what was no doubt the best sex of her life and she should reciprocate his generosity by totally not giving him the clap or whatever.

Especially since this brother of Kurt's sounded like a total pansy. He was probably gay just like his fag brother, which meant Rachel would be wasting her time. Time that she could use to have sex with Puck. But, then again, she had some stupid shit-ass smile on her face when she talked about the douche, so maybe Rachel didn't realize what a waste of time it would be. _Maybe_ he'd have to fix that.

"Alright, guys." He waited for the group to stop playing and talking. "Before you go, let's play the song we learned last week. We have an audience for once, so let's make it good for my hot, little Jewish-American Princess."

Rachel blushed, a coy smile spreading across her face as she straightened up. It had felt like he had been purposely avoiding her the whole time, which she knew was ridiculous. He was simply in the middle of his social obligation and couldn't be focused on her every second of the day, but Rachel couldn't help but hope for the unexpected. After all, she'd never imagined Puck would invite her out to spend the day with him, and yet here she was. Only a few more hours and they would have spent an entire 24 hours together, and while Rachel saw no fault in it she wasn't sure how he felt about that.

_Where it began, I can't begin to know when_

_But then I know it's growing strong_

_Oh, wasn't the spring, wooo_

_And spring became the summer_

_Who'd believe you'd come along_

Rachel smiled wide as the young boy took the lead on vocals, everyone taking a breath in preparation for the next verse so they could join in. Everyone _including _Puck.

_Hands, touching hands, reaching out_

_Touching me, touching you_

_Oh, sweet Caroline (bah bah bah)_

_Good times never seem so good (so good, so good, so good)_

_I've been inclined (bah bah bah) _

_To believe it never would_

He seemed just as surprised as she was to hear his voice, and Rachel let her eyes soak in his expression for only a few seconds before she focused entirely on his voice. The song was incredibly _him,_ and she could hear his enthusiasm in his tone. Technically he was nearly perfect, both in pitch and tonality. He added a raspy flair to certain parts that was a delightful contradiction to the smoothness of the rest of his singing. It was soulful, and enough to make Rachel melt.

_Oh, sweet Caroline (bah bah bah)_

_Good times never seem so good (so good, so good, so good)_

_I've been inclined (bah bah bah) _

_To believe it never would, oh no, no, no_

Casually speaking, of course.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> As if any of you don't know, but the lyrics used in today's update. The song is "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond. Don't sue me.


	12. Just a Vivid Nightmare

**Author's Note:** So I'm basically updating AS I'm writing at this point, which I kind of hate. Hopefully I can get a little bit ahead again since everything is mapped out, but things have just been crazy. I cannot say thank you enough for the feedback for this story. I am still amazed that this crazy, stupid, hysterical idea has turned into ... well, this. For those wondering, it will be 30 chapters long with an epilogue following. So we're not even halfway through all the fun yet, but I hope y'all stick around and enjoy the ride (and keep telling me what you think)! Thanks!

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><p>Puck strolled back into the doctor's office after being gone for most of the day. One of his patients went into labor unexpectedly and he'd been at the hospital since very early this morning. It was par for course considering he was on call for the next two weeks while one of the other doctors was in Aruba for his fourth weddinghoneymoon. Puck knew it went both ways, but things never failed to go to Hell as soon as he was left in charge of everything. Now it was only Wednesday and all the appointments from today would have to be packed into the next two days – as if those weren't already filled.

"Puck!"

He stopped and sighed, hoping he would have gotten a little further into the building before he got stopped by someone. He wasn't even in the office yet, technically. He'd come in through the back and had only passed the lab and a few offices, but unfortunately not his. If he'd made it to his office, he wouldn't have even bothered sitting at his desk. Instead, he would have huddled in front of his mini fridge and devoured anything and everything inside. He'd only managed to shove a muffin from one of those hospital vending machines in his mouth sometime before the noon hour, but now it was closer to dinner; he was seconds away from taking off his belt just to chew on the leather cowhide for leftover nutrients.

"I have that rushed blood work you needed."

His head snapped up from its sagged position, his body turning so fast that he swore he heard the whirl of wind from the force before he walked the few steps back to the lab. Paige was standing behind her desk, mindlessly inputting something into her ancient computer. The office had yet to upgrade their technology, which was about to be a huge problem considering the higher ups were pushing for going completely digital. It made sense and would save money – not to mention the ecological benefits – but Puck was secretly praying that went down as one of those good ideas that would have to wait. They didn't have time to be transferring all their patients' charts into the computers and the transition would be a nightmare.

He could see Rachel's chart sitting on top of the counter in front of Paige, and his empty stomach managed to jump all the way up to his throat as he walked closer to it. Generally it only took a few paces to get from the door to the phlebotomist's desk, but right then it felt a little more like a mile jog. He was sweating by the time he crossed the room, his heart rate elevated and his lungs feeling smaller as he felt short of breath. Puck worked out when he could and was in decent shape, but the small folder seemed heavy as he lifted it from its spot.

"Thanks," he choked out, failing miserably at acting nonchalant.

"Anything for you," Paige purred.

She was clearly expecting some back and forth like usual but Puck just nodded and then practically jogged to his office. He walked inside and didn't even pause to grab some water or the sandwich that he knew was wrapped up in his small fridge. Instead, he just took a seat at his desk, ignoring the blinking messages on his phone and setting the chart in the center of his desk. He held his breath as he cracked the folder open, his eyes scanning the documents inside for the information he needed. He sifted through the papers to find her old results, comparing them to the tests he had redone and then drawing conclusions from the new tests he'd ordered.

Rachel's thyroid test came back negative, as did her adrenal gland hormone test. Her cholesterol was fine, and there wasn't even any indication that she had heightened levels of testosterone or prolactin. Her hCG test came back negative, which was sort of obvious considering she was on birth control and questioning her fertility in the first place. Honestly, she was the picture of perfect health, aside from _one_ test. One test that he'd ordered on a hunch and would have been proud of himself for thinking about if the results hadn't been so spot on – in a bad way.

Her blood sugar levels were through the roof, which if he weren't her doctor and just knew her would actually have been kind of funny because it made sense. Rachel moved like a hummingbird and had such a strict diet that it was obvious her energy came entirely from within. However, as her doctor, Puck knew that the high blood sugar was indication that her body likely wasn't responding properly to the insulin hormone. It was a condition known as insulin resistance and was not only bad because it could lead to the development of type 2 diabetes, but it was also a symptom of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS).

Women with PCOS weren't necessarily infertile, but it wasn't usually an easy road to pregnancy, either. Puck had a few patients with the condition, one of which had been trying to get pregnant with her husband for the past four years. He'd just had to recommend them to a specialist, and they were going to start the in-vitro fertilization process in the next month or so. He tried to remember that it didn't always come to that and that woman had a much more complicated case of PCOS, but Puck couldn't shake the hopeful look that had been in Rachel's eyes that first day. Boyfriend or not, Puck saw the desire to have children sparkle in her eyes and Rachel didn't strike him as the type of person that would take being told she might not be able to get her way lightly.

"Puckerman," he answered gravely, finally picking up the phone that had been ringing for the past three minutes. Whoever needed to talk to him apparently didn't want to leave a message. Or, as he looked at the small screen on the office phone and saw he had seven unheard voicemails, perhaps they didn't want to leave _another_ message.

"Noah, dear! How are you?"

Puck closed his eyes tight, wondering if his day could get any worse. For a brief second he hoped that maybe it was all just a bad dream. He hadn't been awake and working for the past fourteen hours. He wasn't starving to death. Rachel was fine. He didn't have to tell her that she might not be able to have kids. _And_ his mother was definitely not on the phone. No. It was all a dream. Just a horribly vivid nightmare.

"I left you a few messages. Too busy to call your own mother back?"

"Sorry, Ma," Puck said, opening his eyes and sighing. If he was dreaming, then that at least meant he was sleeping. "Is something wrong?"

"Other than the fact that I haven't spoken to my son in so long that I forgot the sound of his voice?" She questioned rhetorically, not even giving him time to respond. "I've accepted the fact that you have forgotten all about me since moving to the big city and becoming a fancy doctor and all, but I hope you do remember that you have a younger sister."

"What's wrong with Sarah?"

"Oh good, you knew her name, too."

Puck rolled his eyes. He'd talked to his mother earlier in the month, but she was always so overdramatic. While most parents would speak proudly of their children if they ended up changing their lives so much that they graduated college and became a successful doctor, Mrs. Puckerman was not like that. It didn't matter that Puck had gone from an almost high school dropout to earning a doctorate at a prestigious New York school; she wouldn't be happy until Puck settled down and gave her grandchildren, and she wasn't above sending him on a guilt trip about it every time they talked. Honestly, he would have turned his back on the whole thing just like he did the shit town he grew up in, but he couldn't do that to her. He wouldn't be his father.

"She's graduating in a few weeks and since she came to your graduation I feel it would only be right if you came to hers. I believe you told her you would when she was enrolled at OSU, but we both know you aren't always great at keeping your promises."

Puck sighed again, moving Rachel's chart and the rest of the folders and papers underneath it away from the center of his desk so he could see the large calendar hiding below. "When is it?"

"Second weekend in May. I figured you could fly right into Columbus and I'll pick you up. The ceremony is early Saturday morning, and then we'll drive back home for a big celebration. I invited _everyone_ in town and what little family we have left, too. Everyone's so proud and once they know you're coming it is _sure_ to cause quite the storm!"

He grunted in response, reaching across the desk with his left hand to grab a pen. He switched his phone to his left ear so he could write with his right hand, not only putting the date on his calendar but getting a sticky note from one of his drawers and writing it down on that, too. He'd stick it inside his wallet so he wouldn't forget that he'd need to get a plane ticket.

"It _also_ happens to be the same weekend as Mother's Day, and I have a wonderful gift idea in mind."

"Whatever happened to you being happy with just seein' me?"

"That's of course part of it, but I'd _also _like to spend some time with that girlfriend of yours."

Puck groaned, knowing that lie would come back to bite him in the ass. Last time they talked, when she was packing extra bags for a particularly long guilt trip, he'd told her he was seeing someone. Normally he didn't care what his mom thought about his love life because she'd seen and heard it all from when he was in high school. But she just kept going on and on about how it was time for him to grow up and he couldn't be a bachelor forever and she was going to die soon without ever watching him grown into a man and father … and before he knew it he was telling her that he started dating someone seriously.

Oddly enough, Rachel was the only other woman in his life aside from his mother and sister who forced Puck to speak without thinking. He'd always had a lot more experience _acting_ before he thought of the consequences, but he was usually pretty good about thinking about all the different angles beforehand. But not with his sister, his mother, or Rachel, it seemed. He'd already drawn the conclusion that the three were similar because they were all bat-shit crazy, but this discovery was a little more disheartening. It seemed to have extra meaning hidden beneath it, and frankly he wasn't in the right mind frame to analyze it.

But, perhaps he could use it to his advantage.

"I don't know, Ma. She's super busy with work and all." He smirked. Puck hated to lie to his mother, but he was secretly enjoying it now that there was _some_ truth to his words. "She works on Broadway. Did I tell you that?" She gasped and squealed all in the same breath, Puck chuckling slightly. "So, yea. It's pretty demanding and shit."

"Language, Noah."

Puck rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless. "Sorry."

"This is very important to me, Noah. This Mother's Day marks a new chapter in my life, one where both my children are college graduates." She inhaled and he knew a long speech was coming. "When your father left, I was devastated. I never thought I'd be able to provide for you two, and it wasn't always easy raising two rebellious children while juggling two different jobs. But, we all made it, and despite the distance I think we've managed to stay close." She sniffed even though he knew she wasn't crying. "Maybe if you gave me this girl's number, I could call her and explain how important …"

"Alright, geeze." Puck sighed, running his free hand over in face in frustration as he reclined back into his seat. It was impossible to give his mother a fictional girlfriend's number, but fuck that noise if she thought he was crazy enough to give her _Rachel's_ number. The last thing he needed was _those two_ talking. His mother would probably arrange for them to be married in his sleep. "I'll invite her but I'm not making any promises. Goodbye."

"Get her back on the phone," Santana snarled, Puck's hand still on the phone now resting in the cradle she appeared so quickly. "_Right. Now_. Call her back and tell her under no circumstances would I even _consider_ going back to that hellhole we used to call home. Eighteen years was _plenty_ long enough and I worked _way_ too hard to get here just to go …"

"Santana …"

"No. I left for a reason. _You_ left for a reason. And now you just want us …"

"Not us." Puck leaned forward, his elbows resting against the top of his desk as he looked up at her. Was she serious? Last time he went back home with Santana, his mom nearly had a stroke. She wasn't particularly fond of the Latina from when they were friends with benefits in high school and his mother's attitude hadn't changed despite the years of civil friendship between the two. It wasn't even because Santana wasn't Jewish, though he knew that wasn't helping. "I didn't mean you."

Santana's expression was already scary, but it somehow managed to morph into downright terrifying when she put all the puzzle pieces together. She stomped two more steps in and then forcefully swung his office door closed, her finger jutting forward as her hip jutted out to the side. She looked entirely too intimidating for someone wearing pink scrubs and weighed just over a hundred pounds, but when she inhaled a deep breath Puck knew he hadn't seen anything yet.

"Are you out of your Goddamn mind?" She shouted, her index finger pointing at him accusingly before both arms flailed at her sides. "First you fuck her more than once, now you're like … _sleeping_ together and then _this_? Bringing her home to _Mommy_?"

"Fuck's your problem lately?" He shouted back, his chair nearly tipping over before it just rolled back and hit the filing cabinet behind him. Typically he probably would have just laughed at her or at least came back with some comeback that was more teasing and suggestive than it was mean, but it had been a long day without this bullshit. "You've been on my ass something fierce for the past week and not in the good way."

Santana's eyes flashed with something other than the clearly present anger, and Puck blinked in surprise. His breath caught in his throat as he processed the new information, and then he doubled over in laughter. Santana sprang from her spot and proceeded to hit him in the back, Puck grunting and groaning into the assault but unable to halt his amusement. Her nails were long and sharp, and his laughter came out in hisses when she made an extra attempt to break the skin. She eventually screeched in frustration, pushing him away and sitting at his desk chair while he stumbled to one of the other chairs facing the desk.

"So you must really like her."

"Listen to you." Santana shook her head, deflecting his bemused comment with practiced annoyance. "You _must_ be in a relationship. You're already starting to sound like a girl."

His smile was immediately gone, the humor in the situation vanishing just as quickly. "It's not a relationship." Santana scoffed, but he continued. "I'm still me and I don't do that shit."

"You _are_ doing that shit," she stated in exasperation, wondering what it would take to get through to him. The jokes weren't working, and now the yelling wasn't either. Maybe she'd have to put it on paper for him to get past the obvious denial he was in. It started immediately when he couldn't stop thinking about Rachel after meeting her and it had only gotten worse since then. "First you're sleeping at her place and like touching and shit after already getting some. Next you'll be married, sneaking away to the bathroom to beat off in the guest towels before crawling back into bed and spooning the wife you never have sex with anymore."

"What is with you and the touching? Have you seen _Pretty Woman_ one too many times?" He deflected comically. "We kiss on the lips, too. Doesn't that mean something?"

"It means you're fucked."

"Look, she's not looking for anything serious either," he reasoned bitterly, thoughts of Rachel's confession from Monday replaying in his head. She'd denied it right away, but Puck wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines in this scenario better than most people, and he knew all the ways to spin the fact that the relationship wasn't exclusive. Magically enough he sometimes made it so the women thought it was their idea in the first place, which is what he _thought_ he was doing with Rachel until she flipped everything on his head.

Not that he was jealous. Kurt's brother, whoever he was, definitely had nothing on Puck. Puck was a stud and proved that to Rachel every night he'd been with her, and most of the days, too. And he wasn't the jealous type, because that would mean he cared enough about the chick to be envious of how or with whom she was spending her time. And Puck _didn't_ care. He just didn't want to lose his fuck buddy to some dopey brother of Kurt's. Like it or not, Rachel was the best sex he ever had and he just wasn't willing to give that up without a fight.

"Do I need to remind you of why the Hell you met her in the first place?" Santana finally questioned, waving her hand in front of his line of vision. "If she's crazy enough to check her fertility without a guy on her arm, then she's obviously looking for _something_ serious."

Puck frowned, his eyes honing in on Rachel's chart teetering on the tall pile of papers and folders. After his conversation with Santana and the phone call with his mom, he'd almost forgotten about the test results. He'd have to call Rachel tomorrow to set up an appointment for Friday – as if it weren't already packed full. Leaning forward, he grabbed the chart off the top of the pile and plopped it down in front of Santana, gesturing for her to open it. She did so, her devilish smirk eventually turning down into a frown like his.

"Turns out she might not be able to get that, either."


	13. Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

**Author's Note:** TGIF - Thank Goodness It's FanFic. LOL! This is another chapter without very much Puck/Rachel interaction, but I will make up for it later. Right now the plot needs to move forward, and I think you all knew this was where we were headed. And the reason I know that is because y'all have been awesome about letting me know what you think. I'm a greedy little monster, though, so I'll never stop asking for the reviews. So please read and enjoy and then let me know what you think! Thanks!

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><p>Rachel and Mercedes took a small table in the outside seating area of the local café, ordering two iced teas even before they sat down. It was beautiful outside and after a full day of rain yesterday and a cold front forecasted for the weekend, both women decided to enjoy the weather while they could. Plus, because they ate dinner early due to the show's runtime, the inside of all the restaurants and cafes were filled with old people and crazy tourists. At least outside they could sit together in relative peace and not have to take a picture or read the allegedly small print on the menus for anyone.<p>

"Do you think we'll be able to sit out here like this in a month?" Rachel stared at Mercedes blankly, the full-figure woman understanding that to be her friend's confused expression. "I mean peacefully, before all the paparazzi start following us around after our many, many, many awards at the Tony's."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but she could feel her heart race as part of her brain drifted off into that crazy fantasy world it sometimes lived in. The nominations for the Tony Awards would be revealed sometime in the middle of the coming month, and then the actual award ceremony would follow about a month after that in mid-June. There was a lot of buzz regarding Rachel's role as Belle in the musical and even though she'd been slighted year after year since she'd started, this time it felt like it might actually happen. The musical was critically acclaimed and the cast was strong in almost every role. Everyone was dedicated to the show and Rachel just had to believe that this would be the year where all her dreams would come true.

"While I feel it is a great cultural flaw, the paparazzi don't typically bombard people like you and me, Tony or not." Rachel opened her menu and started to peruse the selections, talking to her friend through the thin laminated paper. "I'd have to start working on movies and television to garner that type of attention, but right now I'm completely focused on the show. It has been my dream since I was a little girl to star in a Broadway musical, and I promised my fathers I wouldn't stop until I won a Tony for my effort."

"Well, what happens after that?" Rachel tipped her menu down and again stared blankly at her friend, this time causing Mercedes to sigh. "You've worked your whole life for this dream and let's say it comes true. What are you going to do next?"

Rachel's mouth opened and closed several times, a scowl eventually appearing when Mercedes just laughed lightly to herself before going back to reading her menu. Rachel set hers down, figuring she'd just order what she normally did so she could instead focus on all the questions Mercedes had brought to light. It was a hypothetical situation since Rachel didn't even know if she was _nominated _yet, but she hated being unprepared and that's exactly how she felt at that moment.

There was nothing in the world that she wanted more than to win a Tony for her lead role in _Beauty and the Beast_, but then what? Wasn't that the point of working so hard to accomplish her goals early? Because while there was part of her that was very career-driven, there was another part of her that had learned that to truly be happy she needed to balance her professional life with a stable, fulfilling personal life. She'd wanted friends. She'd wanted time with her family. She'd wanted a chance to pursue other interests. Wasn't that the point of learning more about her fertility, because she had plans to do other things?

She was supposed to have it all figured out by now, but instead she was more confused than ever. She had the friends and the time with her family (sort of), but now as she was approaching what would no doubt be one of the biggest milestones of her life, Rachel realized that she was missing someone to share it all with. Or, perhaps even worse than _missing _that person, she had two possible suitors and she wasn't sure _which _person was right to fill the void. On the one side of the coin was Puck, who she had amazing chemistry with in almost all aspects of her life. On the other side of the coin was Finn, who was so close to perfect that it was scary. Both men were extremely different, the classic case of the bad boy versus the boy next door. Neither stereotype was necessarily bad or good, but rather it was all a matter of who fit into the life Rachel had and the life Rachel wanted.

Until she figured out _that_, though, it was impossible to choose.

"Rachel?"

The brunette's head tilted up, a large silhouette blocking the sun and a smile creeping onto her face instantly; she only knew one person who could look so much like a boy while towering over nearly everyone else who walked by. "Are you stalking me?"

"Totally," Finn answered with ease, the two laughing lightly to themselves while Mercedes ordered her food.

Her, Finn, Kurt, and Blaine had all hung out just a couple of days ago. There were two shows on Tuesdays, and Blaine and Finn made plans to come to the evening show. The group had gone out and enjoyed a nice dinner together before the second run and then they went to a nearby bar for some karaoke after the musical wrapped for the night. Finn had actually managed to get Rachel on stage, which had been no easy feat. They sang a delightfully silly duet of Aladdin's _A Whole New World _and it was the first real indication she'd had that they might fit together better than she'd originally thought. They hadn't hung out without Kurt and Blaine with them as buffers, but if nothing else Rachel already considered Finn to be one of her friends. He had such a big heart and was so sweet that it was hard not to want to be a part of his life.

"Well it is kismet that you are here. I was just thinking about you and then you magically appeared."

"You were thinking about me?" Finn questioned, Rachel blushing slightly at her admission and the adorable way his voice hitched in surprise.

"You can pull up a chair if ya want," Mercedes offered while Rachel quickly ordered.

"No, um, I'm cool. Thanks, though."

Rachel hadn't known Finn long, but they had hung out enough times now that she was used to him fumbling his words. She still wasn't sure how he managed to teach a classroom full of children, but Kurt had told her that he was only a bumbling mess in front of women. He had said _attractive _women, but Rachel didn't appreciate the teasing that followed that remark so she ignored it.

"But I did, uh, want to like … talk to you about something."

Rachel straightened her posture out of reflex, the sun over his frame blinding her so much that she had to lift her hand to her forehead to block it out. She kept her focus on his face, which she realized had morphed to appear a little tenser than usual. Finn usually looked very carefree, Blaine using the word dopey to describe Finn's general mannerisms. It was slightly offensive, but since Finn laughed about it Rachel reasoned that it was fine to agree. After all, Blaine knew Finn better than she did even if they had only a met a couple of times before Finn moved to New York.

"I was wondering if you, um, maybe wanted to like ... go out." He cleared his throat. "Without, you know, Kurt and Blaine. Just, um, us." His words rushed together the more he spoke. "And I know you're busy with the musical and whatever so this is like ... open-ended or whatever. Whenever is cool for you."

Rachel's eyes dropped from Finn's and locked with Mercedes. Hers were as wide as saucers, her head involuntarily - Rachel prayed it was involuntary because otherwise she was being _completely _obvious – nodding up and down. Lifting her eyes back to Finn, the thoughts that had been circling around her brain before he showed up all jostled to the forefront of her mind. Panic washed over her and she couldn't bring herself to match her friend's enthusiasm. Instead, Rachel plastered on a fake smile to cover up her inward shock and then mimicked Mercedes nodding.

"That sounds lovely, Finn, and I'm flattered that you asked. Like you alluded to, I'm very busy and I'm sure you are, too, now that you've officially taken over your classroom at the school. I think it would be best for both of us to get a little more settled before trying to start a real relationship, so I hope you won't mind if I check my schedule and get back with you."

"Nah." Finn shrugged, looking as dazed as he always did after Rachel talked longer than a few seconds. "Whatever."

"OK. Wonderful."

There was a long moment of silence that passed, each of the three individuals looking at one another once or twice before Finn finally waved and said he had better get going. Apparently it wasn't fate that he walked by so much as him having a few appointments nearby for some apartments for rent. He said goodbye to Mercedes and Rachel, and then was gone just as abruptly as he had arrived. Then it was just the two women alone at the café table, the larger of the two reaching over with the dessert menu that had been stuck between the napkin dispenser and the sugar holder to slap Rachel upside the head.

"Were you planning on cluing me in?"

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked innocently while fixing the hair that Mercedes had knocked out of place.

"Usually when cute, _single_ men ask cute, _single_ women out on dates, they generally say yes."

"You think I'm cute?"

"If you're fishing for compliments, maybe you should have asked the tall drink of water who'd just admitted he wanted to go on a date with you _whenever_." Rachel sensed her friend's hostility, and knew from experience that her argument was far from over. "What's the problem? Is life going too perfectly for Little Miss Broadway? Think you have a lock on the whole Tony thing so you don't want to jinx it by having a loving boyfriend, too?"

Rachel winced the second the label left Mercedes' mouth, the brunette almost flinching in response, too. She had given up having a boyfriend after everything that happened with Jesse. Boyfriends had expectations, ones that were usually neglected or never even met because of Rachel's other obligations. It was precisely why the arrangement with Puck, while new to her and slightly out of character, worked so well. She never had to feel guilty about where her priorities fell because he never cared if he was first or fifth on the list – just as long as he was getting some.

Thinking of Puck must have triggered Rachel's facial expression to change because suddenly Mercedes grinned like a cat, leaning back into her seat with her arms folded. Rachel tried to quickly hide any traces of lust or whatever might have been readable on her face, but it was no use. Mercedes tilted her head to one side as she evaluated the small woman and then moved it to the other side. Then, a second later, she lifted it upright again and Rachel swore she actually saw the light bulb go on over the black woman's head.

"The classic have your cake and eat it too dilemma."

Rachel's eyes fell nervously to the table, her bottom lip finding its way between her teeth for a few moments. "You don't understand, Mercedes. I've never done anything like this before. I rationalized that it was acceptable because the intentions were entirely pure." Mercedes scoffed at the word, and admittedly it wasn't exactly the best adjective given all the illicit scenarios Rachel has found herself in when with Puck. "Before I thought it was appropriate, healthy even, because I wasn't dating Finn and I'm not really dating Puck either – he's made that _perfectly _clear. But now …" Rachel trailed off, shaking her head. "I can't be with them both at the same time, Cedes. It isn't in me."

"Sounds like you're going to have to choose." Mercedes wasn't sympathetic, and Rachel could almost hear the mockery in her voice. Poor, poor white girl has two attractive men vying for her attention. "You gonna go with sexy boy toy or puppy love?"

Rachel blew out a heavy breath, again thinking back to the two sides of the coin. "Finn is perfect. He's tall and handsome and has a wonderful job and is good with kids and he's Kurt's brother and he seems to like me and ready to settle down."

"So pick Finn."

"But things with Puck are going well. Like, _really _well. He's starting to open up a little more and more, and I could see it turning into something … really good."

"So pick Puck."

"You aren't helping."

"So don't pick me."

Rachel huffed out a breath, resting her chin on her hand and frowning deeply. Mercedes was immune to her pouting, though, ignoring it completely for a full minute before their food arrived. Rachel busied herself removing the onions off the top of the salad and then putting the small cup of dressing next to the discarded vegetable. She used her fork to mix the other toppings with the lettuce, then speared her first bite with a bit more force than needed. As she chewed, she continued to consider which path was the right one to take. And then, much like it had seemed to be fate that Finn had walked by them with no previous knowledge as to where they were, Rachel's phone rang and the screen lit up with "OBGYN".

"Hello?" She wasn't sure why, especially since she didn't even know if it was him or not, but her voice came out differently than it normally would have. There is a sultriness to the tone and she still had trouble recognizing it. She'd only ever heard it when she was talking to Puck, and because it was so foreign she never quite learned to anticipate it or know when or how to censor it. Much like a lot of their interactions, it felt less like something she could control and more like instinct.

"Hey," Puck coughed away from the receiver, then spoke more clearly. "Hey. So, uh, I need to talk to you about somethin'." He sounded so much like Finn had earlier and yet so utterly different that Rachel's heart began to race. "Well, two somethings. The first is about tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"I worked my magic and got you an appointment for five thirty, and it wasn't easy so I hope you aren't busy. If you are, I'm gonna have to tell the chick I bailed on that my dad actually _didn't _die, and that shit is gonna be hard to explain when she comes in for her appointment next week."

Rachel giggled lightly, avoiding Mercedes when she looked up to see the black woman shaking her head. "You must _really _miss me if you need me to come in tomorrow."

There was a long pause before she heard Puck clear his throat, then answer, "Something like that." Much like her voice came out a little more coy and sexy than it usually did when she talked to Puck, he always sounded a bit more flirtatious when he spoke than she'd heard in his tone just now. Unfortunately, he started talking again before she could analyze it any more. "Which sorta goes along with the second something." He inhaled a long breath, and she didn't hear him exhale before he started to talk. "Whatcha doing Mother's Day weekend?"

"I … I don't know." Rachel rarely stuttered or didn't have an articulate answer, but he'd caught her off guard. It was three days later and she was still kind of in shock about him taking her outside his apartment on Monday. Now he was asking about her plans for a future weekend? A weekend that, because she had no mother, she wasn't sure when it was but almost didn't care either way.

"It's no big deal if you can't, but my sister is graduating college in a few weeks and my mom is on my ass about bringin' someone and I sort of told her I would just to shut her up. Santana already threatened to cut me if I took her, and Ma hates her anyway. I'd get extra bonus points since you're Jewish, so maybe …"

"You're inviting me to go home with you for your sister's graduation?" She needed clarification as his invitation wasn't as accommodating as Finn's had been. In fact, it sounded like she was his second choice.

"Yea, but it's no big deal."

But it was. Rachel's widening smile said it was. Mercedes nearly choking on her food said it was. And his nervous tone most _definitely _said it was. It was a big deal because this call was the exact opposite of a booty call. It had connotations to it, ones that added to the whole Finn versus Puck dilemma but in a delightfully complicated way.

"I'd love to go."

"Yea. OK. Cool." He was quiet again for awhile and then she heard him blow out a breath. "Well, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rachel said goodbye and then put away her phone, picking up her fork and spearing another bite before she dared to look at Mercedes. Her friend was looking at her with a mix of intrigue and suspicion that unnerved Rachel. Typically she'd change the subject or just talk about something randomly until the other person gave up, but she couldn't do that with Mercedes. Where Kurt was Rachel's sounding board, Mercedes was more the voice of reason. She was opinionated like Rachel and had no qualms with expressing those opinions, asked or not.

"So you chose Puck."

"No." Rachel shook her head from side to side, tossing her salad as she tried to form a competent response. "I'm still not dating either man. Puck admittedly said the event later in the month is not a big deal."

"Sure."

"I agreed to join him because it is the perfect opportunity to see if there is anything real between the two of us."

"You mean besides the sex."

"Yes," Rachel hissed, looking around at the nearby tables to make sure no one overhead Mercedes. "A successful relationship needs to have a sound foundation supporting it and that is not built solely on the physical aspect. And I think Puck and I might possess some key qualities that could truly mesh well together, but unfortunately those theories haven't been properly tested."

"Because of all the sex."

"You're starting to sound like Kurt," Rachel commented, then her eyes widened. "Mercedes, please don't tell Kurt about all this. Not yet, anyway. Let me tell him."

"I'm not going to lie to him."

"Of course. I understand. Neither will I." Rachel nodded her head. "I will explain to him that I'm simply exploring the possibilities with Puck by attending this social event with him, and it is in no way related to my feelings for Finn or the potential for a successful relationship with him."

"So I just want to make sure I understand. If the weekend with Puck goes well, you're going to pick him and if it doesn't, you'll pick Finn?" Rachel nodded again in the affirmative and Mercedes just shrugged. After all, it wasn't the worst idea. "You said it isn't for almost a month. How do you plan to keep Finn at bay for that long?"

"He understands that I'm busy with the musical."

"I see you didn't check your schedule for either of _Puck's_ requests."

Rachel blushed. "To be fair, I met Puck first. He deserves the right to make his case first, whether he knows that is what he is doing or not."

"I suppose you are far past the point of playing hard to get." Rachel's blush deepened at her friend's teasing. "You do realize, though, that this means you'll have to use some of your vacation days, right?"

And then in a flash, all the color in Rachel's face drained.


	14. Breaking Rules but Following Laws

**Author's Note:** I'm so seriously tired and work is already kicking my butt, so I'm going to update this and beg y'all to find a way to get me through the day (ie: **_review_**!). I thank you immensely for all the feedback you already have left for the previous chapters, and I will do my best to keep up with the updating pace I set even though I spent at least three hours yesterday writing a completely different story. If you follow me, look out for it soon, but also don't worry about me forgetting about this one. I'm still very much knee-deep in writing the next chapter and will hopefully have it ready by Wednesday if not Thursday.

Special shout out to Jann for setting my mind at ease about this ending. Sorry to spoil it for you, but who cares because you are from the other side anyway. ;)

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><p>Fridays typically dragged. It was like Newton's fourth law of motion that got cut in the end when he ran out of ink or quill or something. But for the first time ever, Puck would have willing accepted that fact. Hell, he would have welcomed it. The longer it took to get to the end of the day, the more time he had to prepare for his meeting with Rachel. Not that there was much point in preparing for the appointment. He had the facts and the plan of action already mapped out – it was really the only thing he could do at three in the morning when he <em>still<em> couldn't fall asleep. What he didn't know how to do, however, was how to actually _tell_ her, but he was pretty sure it didn't matter if he had a minute left to think about it or an hour. He would have preferred an hour, though, which was why he was none too pleased when Santana told him Rachel had arrived a half hour early.

They couldn't even keep her waiting because the lobby was completely empty given the hour. Puck had done everything in his power to stay busy today. He had done extra paperwork and interacted with the patients longer on purpose, but nothing worked. Any other day and he would have had to cancel on Rachel because the appointments would have backed up way too late, but because he was looking for any reason not to go through with their meeting, it was bound to happen. He was pretty sure that was a law not by Newton but some guy named Murphy.

"She's all ready," Santana warned as she approached the receptionist's desk. "I tried to stall for as long as I could."

Puck sighed, hearing the mockery in her voice. Santana hadn't let up on him since Wednesday, which only added to the feeling that it had been the longest few days of his life. He saw her every day at work, and the whole time she made snide comments about mixing business with pleasure. The first day he reminded her that he wasn't the only one at fault when it came to shitting where he worked, but all it did was fuel the fire. Santana was still caught up on the severity of the relationship – getting angrier and angrier every time Puck refused to use that word to describe what was going on with Rachel.

"And since she's not going to sue since you're already fuckin' her, I assume I can go."

He nodded absently, exhaling a deep breath before turning away from the front of the office and heading down the one hallway. He grabbed Rachel's chart from the bin outside her door and looked inside again to verify that it was correct. He didn't need to look at it for long; the words were engrained in his mind as clearly as his own address, Puck pretty sure he could recite the results verbatim without even looking after he'd spent so much time scouring every single detail. He wanted there to be an error. He wanted to find a mistake in one of the ordered tests or the results, but no such luck. Rachel's condition was as factual as Einstein's theory.

What goes up must come down.

"There's a difference between being punctual and being a nuisance," he opened lightly. He'd probably blown his nonchalant cover yesterday on the phone, but he figured there was no harm in trying to lure her into a false sense of security. That was, after all, the plan. "Or didn't they teach you that at your fancy school?"

"That fancy school was Julliard," she pointed out with a growing smile, her voice dropping one octave as she finished her alluring thought, "and I don't believe you've ever complained before about the things I learned there."

Puck stumbled over himself a little as he took a seat on the stool in the corner, letting her giggle roll down his back. He knew she thought it was because he was affected by her words, and since it was at least partially true there didn't seem to be any fault in not elaborating on his uneasiness. If she wanted to think it was because his mind instantly flashed with thoughts of her flexibility, then so be it. In fact, it wasn't far from the truth. It was just more centered on whether he'd get to witness that tight body bending over him again after he gave her the bad news.

"I didn't expect to be called back so quickly. I was fully prepared to spend the half hour waiting in the lobby reading my book." Her head bowed bashfully. "Did you know that Neil Diamond is the third most successful Adult Contemporary entertainer of all time, behind only to Barbra herself and Elton John?"

His joke about her reading some Streisand biography was quickly erased, replaced only with awe as she uttered a fact so utterly useless but pretty epic at the same time. He had half a mind to ask her if he could borrow whatever it was she was reading once she was done, but then he looked at the quasi-book in his own hands and remembered that this wasn't a courtesy call. Neil couldn't help him here, and her idol wasn't going to be able to help her, either. It was just them.

"So, your test results came in."

Rachel nodded sadly, her previous smile fading away. "I figured." She bit her lip nervously, shrugging one shoulder. "You seemed anxious on the phone and … well, I don't think I've ever heard you anything but apathetic."

Puck narrowed his eyes for a moment, filing away that observation for later and forging on. "Well, most of the results were good. Your thyroid came back clean, there was no chemical imbalance, no indication your adrenal gland is malfunctioning." He cleared his throat, diving in head first. "But your blood sugar was extremely high." When she didn't say anything, he decided to continue with the speech he didn't have prepared. "It is unusual and with no obvious history of diabetes in your family and no physical symptoms that would indicate such high results, it causes some concerns in regards to your fertility."

He waited for her to butt in, waited for the million questions he knew she'd have. Anyone would have them, but a chick like her should have a least a dozen more. Instead, though, she just kept nodding softly, staring at him with an intensity in her eyes that unnerved him. She was looking at him like he would make everything better and that just wasn't the case. If he could, he would, which was a thought that stopped him dead in his tracks. It was bad enough that he'd been nervous about having to tell Rachel the truth. Now he was wishing he could help?

Maybe Santana was right. Maybe he was fucked.

"The good news is that it could turn out to be nothing. A small change can make the world of a difference, so what we're going to do is have you stop taking your birth control. Immediately."

This seemed to break her out of her quiet resolve, her eyes widening for a moment before her hand reached out for her purse. She pulled out a small notepad from inside and a pen, jotting down a few notes about the condition as Puck explained it in a bit more detail. He referenced back to her early reproductive history, pointing out that her history of irregular menstrual cycles could have been caused by her diet and exercise regime, but was also a symptom of PCOS. By the time he was done, she had a small smile on her face and he couldn't help but ask her what she could possibly find amusing at that moment.

"I've never heard you speak so articulately," she answered evenly, the lilt in her voice from before gone. "It suits you … and doesn't."

Puck shook his head comically, wondering if he'd entered the _Twilight Zone_. It was the only excuse for why Rachel wasn't currently in hysterics. Any other woman would have been, and even though he knew she took pride in proving that she wasn't like everyone else, he was willing not to use this situation as evidence to the contrary. The only thing she was doing by being so cool and collected was freaking _him_ out.

"So you'll stop taking your birth control and start charting so we can observe how your body reacts to the change." He coughed nervously, looking down at the chart again. "That could be enough to fix everything, but if not we can explore that prescription I was telling you about and … yea." He looked down at her notepad and frowned when he saw her absently scribbling in the corners of the sheet. He felt like he just derailed the Little Engine That Could, and he couldn't take it anymore. "Look, I meet up with a couple of my friends every Friday at a bar not far from here. Why don'tcha come and I'll buy ya a beer?"

"No thank you," she answered quietly, scooting off the patient's chair into a standing position. Her eyes were focused on the notepad she had gripped loosely in her hands, her voice as stoic as her expression had been for the past fifteen minutes. "I still have my show tonight."

"Don't you have an understudy?"

"Yes, but I've never used her."

A bubble of laughter escaped from low in his stomach, his chest rumbling as the amusement leaked out into the room. That was just _so _Rachel that he couldn't do anything _but _laugh about it. He didn't, however, find anything funny about her rejecting his offer – especially when he'd made such a huge sacrifice by inviting her to Bar Nine with him in the first place. He'd never done it before, and he'd never been rejected before, either, so he sure as shit wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity, then. If you're really coming with me to Ohio, this understudy is going to have to work – what – four shows. Don't you want her to be prepared?" He saw her crack just a little, so he kept going. "What better way than to throw her right into the fire? Make sure she's ready for the heat. _Plus_, no matter what, they'll realize how vital you are and …"

"Stop." Rachel rolled her eyes, finally tiling her head up to look at him. She knew he felt bad about their meeting, which was as surprising as it was comforting. He had nothing to do with the possible complications, and his remorse was so kind and endearing that it almost made the news that she might not be able to have children as easily as she might like worth it. After all, she wasn't ready to have kids yet, but it was nice to know she had someone in her life who knew enough about her and cared about her enough to distract her from the depressing thoughts that couldn't help but manifest in her brain. "You had me at hello."

Puck chuckled, nodding his head and pointing toward the front of the office with her chart. They split up at the lobby so he could close everything down and she called the theater to tell them she wouldn't be there tonight. The director had actually thought it was a joke at first, and Rachel couldn't help but smile when the realization crept into his voice and then erupted in a flurry of chaos in the background. She hung up right when Puck walked back to the front, the two leaving the office together and starting the trek toward the bar in comfortable silence.

Even though their regular table was at least a hundred feet away from the front door, Puck could see both Mike's and Sam's shocked expressions when he walked into the bar with Rachel by his side. Sam actually stood up, meeting them somewhere in the middle. His hand was extended out toward Rachel, but his eyes never left Puck's and all the latter could do was silently tell his friend to keep his cool. Easier said than done, especially for a guy like Sam.

"Hello! My name's Sam."

"Rachel." She squinted when his eyes light up, her eyes moving off the blonde and over to Puck. He just shrugged and kept moving toward the table, not-so-inconspicuously gesturing to the other gentleman at the table to, apparently, stop freaking out. "I'm sorry if I'm crashing guy's night."

"No, you're not."

"Totally not!"

"Our wives sometimes come, when we can get sitters and such. I'm Mike, by the way."

"Hello," she answered wearily, used to the spotlight but not quite prepared for all the attention the two men were showering her with. There was a moment where Mike and Sam were just staring at her, and Rachel cleared her throat to hide the awkwardness from her voice. "What's everyone drinking? I'll buy the first round."

"I told you I got this."

Rachel turned to face Puck, a soft smile gracing her face even as she shook her head softly. "You can get the next one."

Puck nodded and watched her walk toward the bar before he plopped down into the soft cushion and eyed his friends. He let his hard stare say all the negative things he really wanted to get off his chest but didn't dare to say in case Rachel could hear him. He knew she already felt uncomfortable, and he really hadn't meant to add to that feeling because Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were pissing themselves over the fact that Puck had brought a girl – apparently Santana didn't count for some reason. Without giving up the details about why she was unsettled in the first place, though, Puck simply had to rely on the fact that Mike and Sam were being creepy and that shit wasn't kosher.

"Order up," she announced with a pitcher of beer in one hand and three glasses in the other. She set the glasses down and expertly filled them in uniform precision, the fancier drink she'd ordered showing up at the perfect moment that they could all clink their glasses together and toast to nothing in particular. "So, I hear you gentleman come here every Friday night. I think it's absolutely adorable that you three value your friendships enough to show such dedication. How long have you known each other?"

"Mike and I just met at the beginning of the year. That's when we started coming here regularly," Sam answered, leaning closer to Rachel as the band on stage started to play. Rachel's eyes lifted over the blonde and toward the musicians, mentally critiquing them before she focused back on Sam. "Puck and I have known each other since college."

"And I met him like five years ago when his band was playing at another bar closer to where Tina and I live."

"Are you a musician as well?"

"No, I teach dance at Julliard."

"I went to Julliard!" She answered eagerly, Puck laughing as her sour mood diminished as her blood alcohol level increased. Should have known she'd be a lightweight. "And Tina's your wife?" Mike nodded. "Sam, what do you do?"

"I'm a teacher. So is Quinn, my wife," he answered, watching Puck nod toward the bar in indication that he was going to get another round. "I actually should take it easy tonight. We have some team-strengthening activity tomorrow and then a barbecue dinner afterward."

"That sounds like fun!"

"Yea, it should be. We've had a few new people come into the school system mid-year, so the principal thought it would be good for us to get to know everyone better. I almost brought one of the new guys with me here tonight but he couldn't make it. He's looking for apartments in the city, which I'm sure you know is a drag."

"Are we talking about you wishing to be a woman again?" Puck questioned, placing another pitcher in the middle of the table and then putting another drink in front of Rachel. "One Pink Panty Pulldown for the lady."

Rachel blushed, not daring to look at Mike or Sam and barely finding the courage to stare widely at Puck. "How did you …"

"It's a gift," he answered on a wink, refilling his own glass with the rest of the beer from the first pitcher.

"Underwear is sort of his specialty," Mike joked, the three men rousing each other for a full minute or so before they stopped long enough to realize Rachel had gotten up and moved toward the stage. Her drink was gripped tightly in both of her hands, her head moving back and forth in time with the music even as she sipped at her drink through a thin straw. Puck couldn't see her eyes from their seats, but he knew they were dancing and he felt a wave of pride wash over him. Even if it was just the alcohol or just for tonight, at least she didn't look like a wounded puppy anymore.

The sense of accomplishment, however, diminished with each click of her heels on the drunken walk home several hours later. He was holding her arm just in case she fell, which she said was unnecessary but given the amount of times she had stumbled over nothing in the past five minutes he knew better than to let her independence be cause for a trip to the emergency room. Rachel clearly wasn't of sound mind because she was babbling incessantly about Mike and Sam and how nice they had been to her and how lovely it was that they were all friends despite their wildly different lifestyles. Mike and Sam were practically the same person, so he knew she was talking about him.

"What's so wrong with my lifestyle?"

"Do you want health reasons or just general?" She slurred her words, and he found himself grinning even though she was basically making fun of him. "You're not really at fault, I suppose. I imagine the girls just fall at your feet, plus you're a product of your own history." Rachel stopped walking, swaying a little as she glossed over his blank expression. "Mike comes from a long line of family tradition, so it's no wonder he's already married with a child. Sam, similarly, was raised by two parents with siblings so naturally he wanted the same life for his family."

Puck swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry as she continued her analysis.

"I'm fairly certain you come from a broken home, as I've only heard you talk about a little sister and, as of recently, your mother. So it's no wonder you're scared of commitment."

"I'm not scared of anything," he answered roughly, following her after she just rolled her eyes and walked into her apartment building. They got into the elevator and pressed the button for her floor before either of them spoke again. "Explain to me the difference between our lifestyles." She immediately opened her mouth to speak but he simply talked over her. "Don't we both just do what we are good at?"

Rachel's jaw slacked open, her argument falling as well when the elevator rocked and moved her just enough that she fell into his personal space. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, the scent that was purely him sinking into her skin. She pressed herself closer to him, sighing in appreciation when she felt his arms encircle her waist. She knew he was just keeping her from falling into a drunken mess on the floor, but she absorbed his touch until the elevator dinged on her floor. He pushed them off the elevator wall and out into the hallway, moving to her apartment door and then inside. Rachel kicked off her heels and made her way to the bedroom only when she sensed that he was following.

"I suppose you have a point," she finally reasoned, stepping into her closet even as she continued to speak. "I mean, you _are_ good at it." She couldn't see, but Puck's chest puffed out a little, at least until she spoke again. "Before, I thought Brian was good. He knew all the right moves and was so sweet and kind."

"He sounds like a tool."

Rachel smirked as she popped her head out from inside the walk-in closet, her eyebrows knitting together in amusement. "Green isn't your color, Sweet Caroline."

Puck gritted his teeth at her teasing, wishing he could blame the alcohol for her boldness but knowing better. Rachel was the kind of girl who would call him on his bullshit no matter what, and that apparently included his somewhat obvious attempt to one up the other guy Rachel wasn't dating. And even though it was kind of embarrassing – especially since he didn't want to give her the wrong idea – he also liked that about her. The other women he'd been with were always so predictable, never saying what they meant or even saying what they felt. Rachel wasn't like that. He was fairly certain she would be the first to voice her opinion, in the minority or not, and she'd probably end up getting her way, too.

"Jesse was awful," she continued, coming out of the closet wearing a tight tank top and a pair of short shorts, her hair piled high on her head. "I suppose it should have been obvious that he would be a selfish lover, but a girl like me takes what she can get, you know?"

"A girl like you?" He looked her up and down, as if the lust coursing through his eyes wasn't already fully ablaze. "You're fuckin' gorgeous."

"But am I any good?" She asked quietly as she crawled onto her bed, resting her head against her pillow with a heavy sigh. "I try to excel at everything I do, but …"

He scoffed at the thought of her being any less than perfect. "You're dynamite."

"Thank you, Noah." She blushed but he couldn't really tell since her skin was already so flushed. "For everything. Tonight meant a lot to me."

"No sweat." He heard the cockblock in her tone, and shuffled his feet in response. He couldn't very well be pissed that she wasn't in the mood after the day she had. "I'll talk to you later."

She nodded her head softly, but then he turned to leave and was nearly out of sight before she called his name. She bit her lip to keep her smile from widening when he reappeared, her eyes unfocused but settling solely on him. Rachel knew she was setting herself up for heartache, or at the very least rejection, but she couldn't stop herself. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the security she felt with both of them cloaked in the darkness of the night.

"Stay?"

Her request was simple but so much more complicated than he was prepared for. It was a description that fit the petite brunette in general, actually. It had started out simple. Boy meets girl. Girl likes boy. Boy needs to screw girl or his brain will explode. It was a classic tale, but it didn't end there. There was a sequel that was closer to an erotic novella because once the boy had screwed the girl he couldn't stop. And now they were nearing the end of that book and what should have been the final installment, but his feet clearly had a trilogy in mind because he found himself walking over to the other side of her bed and stripping to his boxers before sitting down on the soft surface. He lay on his back tentatively, clasping his hands back behind his head and holding his breath when Rachel moved to nestle against his side.

"Thank you, Noah," she reiterated, curling deeper into him as her head rested on his chest and her right arm sprawled across his stomach. Her breath evened out almost immediately and Puck closed his eyes in frustration. Not only was this precisely why he didn't do drunk girls, but this was also a prime example as to why he never stuck around with girls for much longer than five minutes after doing the deed. He wasn't a cuddler, and frankly outside of sex he didn't initiate much physical contact with anyone. If her voice hadn't been so vulnerable beforehand Puck probably would have slipped out from underneath her and left. Instead, all he could do was look down at her sleeping form.

He wasn't sure how long he stared at her, but he knew it wasn't a quick look. Puck spent at least five minutes just staring at her tits, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. His eyes trailed over the subtle lines of her collar bone and the column of her neck, following the olive skin all the way up to her face. Her perfect, pouty lips were parted just enough that he could feel her breath wisp across his chest. Her eyelashes rested softly on her flushed cheeks and he unclasped his hands from behind his head so his right arm could maneuver around and move some of her soft, shiny hair away from her face.

Rachel snuggled deeper into his side at the contact, and instead of bringing his hand back to where it was, he simply lowered it and stroked her back gently. She sighed in her sleep and the noise shot through him for some reason. He blamed it on the late hour and his own blood alcohol level, but he was suddenly so calm that he felt his eyes droop closed. The last thing he noticed before he dozed off was the way his fingers danced across the skin of the arm she had tossed over his stomach, and he wondered how something so new and alarming could be so comfortably innate.


	15. Meeting Adjourned

**Author's Note:** I can't thank all of you enough for your support/encouragement/begging but I will always try: THANK YOU! There's a lot going on in this chapter, but it is surprisingly short. I prefer to think of it as concise, but whatever. Point is, I'd love to know what you think!

**Sidenote:** I'm not above plugging my own stuff (or others' for that matter ... if you are a Finchel fan, read JannP's stuff. She'll rock your world) so if you aren't following me as an author, I recently posted the first part of a short Puckleberry story called _It's Never Too Late_ that I'm very excited about. So, you know, read this and review and then go read that and review it, too. LOL!

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><p>Rachel waved eagerly from her spot at one of the booths in the back, hoping Kurt could see her over the rather large gentleman that had placed himself between their table and the door. Rachel was small as is, so adding an obstruction close to three hundred pounds wasn't exactly improving the situation. However, despite the blocked vision, she saw Kurt lift his eyes in exasperation and then squeeze himself into the seat across from Rachel. It was no easy feat considering another patron was back so far at his own table that he was nearly pressed against the opening to the booth seat Kurt had to get into. Rachel had already asked him to squeeze in once, and Kurt was too nice to say anything about it at all. So, instead, he glared at her.<p>

"We could have sat outside, but I know how you hate what the humidity does to your hair."

Kurt shrugged in compliance, grabbing the menu in front of him and looking over the selections. She and Kurt met for brunch nearly every Saturday before the two o'clock show, and they always rotated between the same three spots. Looking at the menu was really just a formality, and one that both parties just barely recognized today since Kurt had to push back their usual time by a whole hour. It was now closer to noon than Rachel liked on a day with a matinee show, which also altered her order to something lighter – though she wasn't sure what was lighter than a salad.

"So, I called this meeting …"

"This meeting?" He questioned quizzically, his eyebrows lifting up in interest as he looked at her above the edge of the menu. "I thought it was brunch?"

"It's a brunch _meeting_," she clarified. Given that he had to rush away from whatever had kept him busy during their normal meeting time, Rachel would have just canceled. But she'd promised Mercedes she would tell Kurt everything that was going on, and after a week of really coming to grips with it herself, she decided now was as good of a time as any. "And I called it because you're my best friend, and I feel I need to be completely honest with you."

"Are you dying?"

"No, of course not."

"Are you leaving the show?"

This question came out more urgently than the first and Rachel had half a mind to be insulted. "No, I'm not."

"Moving?"

"Please stop talking." Rachel pleaded, lifting her hands in addition to her words just in case he even thought about interrupting again. Kurt scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Rachel smiled at him. Thirty years old and he still managed to find it within himself to pout when he didn't get his way. Thankfully the waiter came and took their orders, providing a buffer to the tension that had been created. "I want to tell you something - well, somethings - and I want you to know that both are in the strictest of confidence."

Kurt nodded reluctantly, no doubt seeing the seriousness in her eyes if not hearing it in her tone. Kurt was the quintessential gossip girl other than the fact that he was male, and what she was about to tell him had to be kept between him and her. Mercedes knew about the first thing, but the second … only one other person knew about that and Rachel was pretty sure he was either pretending he didn't or was ignoring it completely. She wasn't exactly sure which one it was, and she'd consciously done her best not to think about it too much since that night he'd spent the night.

She'd woken up to a note on the other side of the bed with his lazy scrawl all over it and two aspirin. The note just said that he'd talk to her later and later apparently meant _a lot later _because she still hadn't heard from him. Rachel had to call his office on Thursday to inform them that she'd gotten her period, which they said was very reassuring, but even then she'd only spoke with one of the receptionists. Not that she'd expect him to take such a trivial call, but she couldn't help but wonder if things were different now because he knew she wasn't on birth control anymore or because of something else. Something … more.

"The first thing is that I'm going away for a weekend in the middle of the month. Erin is already knows because I wanted her to be prepared as possible, and the reason I'm telling you this far in advance is because I want you to know I'm going with Puck. I don't want you to think I'm cheating on Finn … no, wait. That's not the right word." She paused for a nanosecond before reworking her sentence. "I don't want you to think I'm not _interested_ in Finn. Because I am. He's extremely handsome and polite and kind and funny and …" She trailed off with a scowl when Kurt rolled his index finger to get her back on track. "The point is, I am interested in Finn, but I'm also interested in Puck. I know that sounds awful and somewhat selfish not to mention entirely careless, but I met him first and things have been escalating between the two of us for awhile now. And not just intimately but on deeper levels and the more I learn about him and the more time we spend together things seem to be moving in the right direction and I just feel like there could be _something_ there. Moreover …"

"Did you need me here for this conversation?"

Rachel's scowl deepened. "With this opportunity to be alone with him without work and without other factors or other people, even, it seems like the best time to figure out if what I'm feeling is … real."

Kurt nodded his head calmly, picking up his glass of water and taking a ginger sip before placing the cup back on the table. They'd talked earlier at the beginning of Rachel and Puck's arrangement about the obvious differences between the two individuals. Rachel had never participated in anything close to a casual relationship, the very closest thing being her one night with Jesse last year when the two had just ended up together again for one drunken night. Outside of that, Rachel had been a serial monogamist, with only three real serious boyfriends to her name and a handful of other men that she'd spent time with but had no real connection – intimate or otherwise.

Puck, on the other hand, had been around the block. Even if he hadn't told Rachel, it was painfully obvious in almost everything he did. Even his _walk_ had player written all over it and it would have been a deterrent if he wasn't so painfully charming. That was essentially the part Rachel feared most. She was worried that while her feelings for him started to grow as their relationship developed into something unexpected, his feelings were still nonexistent. He was clearly capable of shelving all emotional attachment and _likely_ capable of saying whatever he had to in order to get a girl into bed. Rachel could think and dream all she wanted that what she was feeling was real, but Puck was the only one who could tell her for sure.

"Do you want it to be real?" Kurt finally asked, bending back in his seat a bit when the waiter came with their plates. Kurt had ordered a vegan-friendly dish just like Rachel and the two unconsciously split their meals in half and switched so they both had a bit of each. When they realized what they had done, and known it probably wasn't the first time they'd done it without thinking, they both smiled at each other. "In an ideal world, would Puck be the one you … picked?"

Rachel scrunched her nose at his wording, moving her food absently with her fork as she considered an alternative. She hated to think that this was some sick matching game, or that she had any right to find herself stuck between two wonderful men without any discernible clue on which was the right choice. But, like it not, it was the best way to describe the situation at the current moment.

"In an ideal world," she reiterated, making sure that point was clear, "yes, I would choose Puck." He didn't seem surprised, but she felt she needed to explain. "Everything just seems very … natural with him. And I know that is likely a product of his personality, but Finn isn't necessarily wound very tightly. I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes especially when things get crazy for the show and …" Her mouth snapped shut, a heavy breath exhaling from her nose. "I feel completely different when I'm with Noah, but … I like it."

"Noah?"

Rachel blushed, realizing she'd done fairly well at using his nickname with others. "That's his real name."

"Better late than never." Kurt chuckled, chewing the last of his bite and sipping at his water again before continuing the conversation. "Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell Finn or anyone else for that matter. However," Rachel's eyes widened, not prepared for a condition. "As _your_ best friend, I feel like I need to be completely honest with you as well."

Rachel nodded eagerly, her eyes boring into his. She pushed her second something to the back of her mind, willing him to reveal his secret quicker even without knowing the subject at all. It could have been about anything. The show. Mercedes. Blaine. _Anything_.

"I don't know _much_, but I'm fairly certain you aren't the only one who is trying to decide between two vastly different paths." Kurt sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I think there's a woman at the school that Finn's interested in. They had a big work thing last Saturday and I was talking to him about it the next day and even though he mentioned a few other names, this woman's kept coming up – just like it had been since he started working."

"Last Saturday?"

"I know what you're thinking and I'm sorry to say that was partially my fault." Kurt pushed his plate away, not hungry enough to finish the rest. "This woman is married _with kids_ so Blaine and I might have pushed him a little harder in your direction than he was really willing to go. Not that he's not interested in you, either. He thinks you're amazing and talented and 'sneaky hot' – whatever that means – but I think he's confused. And typically I wouldn't mettle …" She shot him a bemused expression that derailed his thought just enough. "OK, I would. But only because you are my best friend and you deserve to be happy. So does Finn, which is exactly why he should be with _you_ instead of barking up a tree that has already been peed on." Kurt sighed in frustration, settling deeper into the booth seat. "The last thing Blaine and I need when Social Services start sniffing around is some crazed baby daddy showing up on our doorstep with a can of lighter fluid and a grudge."

It was a lot of information to process in the few minutes it took Kurt to get it all out, and Rachel found herself quiet for probably a lot longer than he expected. She wasn't sure what sneaky hot meant either, but it made her feel good. Not as good as when Puck called her dynamite, but good nonetheless. She also wasn't sure what exactly Kurt meant by a tree that was already peed on, but that thought was overshadowed by the last. And not the lighter fluid, but the offhanded reference to Social Services. She suddenly had a better idea as to what had kept Kurt away this morning, but she liked to be sure about these types of things.

"Social Services?"

Kurt matched her growing smile, nodding his head just slightly. "Is it OK that we talk about something besides your love life? You know, since you reserved the room and all for this meeting." Rachel rolled her eyes and waited for him to continue. "Blaine and I have officially started the adoption process."

Even though she had been somewhere near 95% sure, Rachel was still surprised to hear the words come out of Kurt's mouth. Adopting had been something to two men had been going back and forth about for a couple of years now, if not longer. Before they agreed they weren't ready or weren't where they wanted to be professionally, but then they both got to that place and Blaine still was dragging his feet. She was Kurt's best friend but she'd talked to Blaine about it a couple of times, and she knew he was worried not only about the stigma of two dads – something she had a lot of advice/reassurance on – but he was also nervous about raising a child in the city. Both their jobs basically required them to stay local, but they both had small-town roots that Blaine considered to be valuable now that they'd been away for so long.

Unfortunately, she couldn't comment on any of it because all she could think about was Blaine and Kurt becoming parents when she might not ever get to experience the same gratification. "I'm beyond happy for you two, Kurt."

"But?" He asked, sensing her sudden uneasiness as easily as a change in the temperature.

"But," she dragged out on a sigh, diving head first into the other thing she wanted to tell him. "In an effort at full disclosure, there was something else I needed to tell you because I need to tell someone and that someone is always you even though you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

"What's the matter?" He could sense it in her voice, knew the something wasn't as silly as the first or as good as his something. If he wasn't sure, he certainly was when she busied herself with the check and then nodded toward the front in signal that they should leave. When Rachel was really nervous, she didn't like to stand still. She would pace the room or move her hands a lot. In this case, she was going to use the walk from the restaurant to the theater to her advantage, as it not only kept her moving but it also allowed for her to speak without having to look him in the eye.

"The reason I met Puck in the first place was because I not only needed an annual exam, but I had read an article that discussed the increasing issues women thirty and over were facing with fertility. You know how I always like to be prepared for any given scenario, so I asked to check my fertility and they did some blood work and almost everything check out fine except it turns out my blood sugar was extremely high and that paired with a few other symptoms give them reason to believe I have a condition commonly referred to as PCOS."

He was rendered speechless for an entire block, but then finally had to ask, "The 'C' doesn't stand for cancer, does it?"

"No, no. It's nothing … serious." She winced on the word because she knew that wasn't necessarily true. It could be serious. It could be something that affects all her decisions in the area of her reproductive health from now on. But she was being optimistic. "They feel it will be extremely manageable and assure me that there have been a lot of advancements in the field if it turns out to be a bigger issue than they think." Kurt nodded, feeling a little better but likely only because he knew Rachel wasn't in the position yet where finding out the answers to those types of questions was important. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No," he answered without hesitation, his voice soft and comforting. "I don't." Then, because it had been quite a revealing day and he knew they had a show in a little less than two hours, he decided to switch gears. "Although I have to say I'm surprised you have a chance with Puck at all after the word fertility came out of your boyfriend-less mouth." Rachel blushed but smiled, and he figured he was on the right track. "Where is Dr. Love these days, anyway?"

"Well, I had to stop taking my birth control immediately so therefore I'm currently housing my Aunt Flow." Kurt rolled his eyes at her euphemism, but deep down he was still a guy and he wasn't exactly up for discussing the intricacies of her menstrual cycle. "I imagine he'll be gone for the remaining three to five days."

They laughed appreciatively together as they walked through the back door of the theater. Kurt didn't have a dressing room so he just followed Rachel to hers, knowing she didn't do anything really demanding to get ready at least an hour before showtime. She did usually spend the time in silence resting her voice, and after all the talking they'd done so far he was pretty sure they both had plenty to think about. And it was comfortable just sitting together, him on the overstuffed chair and her relaxing on the sofa as they both flipped through a magazine.

But then Rachel suddenly stopped and peered over the glossy paper bound together in her hands, looking at Kurt hesitantly. "For the record, I really am happy for you two, Kurt."

"I know."

"I think it is a terrific idea for you to adopt. You'll both be terrific parents."

"Thank you." His voice was low not because he was afraid someone would hear them but because he wanted what he had to say to come out as gently as it could. "So will you."

Rachel nodded her head only minutely, burying her face back in her magazine even though the words blurred together. She wasn't focused on them anyway, instead thinking about Kurt's words and the situation. She obviously saw the value in adoption otherwise she wouldn't have been raised by two of the most wonderful men she knew. However, ever since she was old enough to really consider children and motherhood, Rachel had always wanted to do it … naturally. She wanted her son or daughter to be half of her and half of her partner, and she wanted to raise him or her in a house full of love and happiness all while she continued to live our her professional dreams.

Basically, she wanted to prove her mother wrong. She wanted to show her and everyone else that it was possible to have it all, but now she was starting to get the idea that maybe it wasn't. She could have the career, but couldn't have the man. She could have the man, but not the baby. If she had the baby, she couldn't have the career. There were suddenly so many scenarios and so many paths that she realized maybe choosing between Finn and Puck was the least of her problems.


	16. Worth a Thousand Words

**Author's Note:** Fly by update. I'm on a roll (and that roll is dirty so be warned). A million thank yous to everyone reading and reviewing. I can't believe I'm about to hit the 200 mark and we're only HALFWAY. *shocked* Perhaps another prize should be awarded ...

Regardless, enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

><p>Mike, Puck, and Sam sat around a high top table with at least a dozen empty shot glasses covering the open space between them. Mike had done two shots, Puck four, and all the others were currently moving their way through Sam's system. They'd done the same thing last night at their usual spot, and tonight it was the same sad story just a different location. This bar was jam packed with people, loud music playing all around them but coming from speakers instead of local bands like at Bar Nine. There was a dance floor that was full of half-drunk and completely drunk men and women grinding or jumping up and down to something that resembled a beat.<p>

Frankly, it wasn't Puck's scene. Maybe back in college when he'd go to a club like everyone else because that's where the hot girls went. But now he was older and he had a better collection system than scouring the bars for someone willing and able. He'd perfected his game so much that now he didn't really even have to move – the girls came to him. He just had to pick which one was ripe for the choosing, but tonight he wasn't looking for him. The whole outing, in fact, wasn't about him. It was about Sam.

"I can't believe she _did_ this to me!" Sam shouted for probably the hundredth time since he'd told them last night what happened. "To the kids!"

According to Sam, Quinn had hooked up with some dude from their school. Puck didn't know all the details, and wasn't really sure what hooked up meant because he was fairly sure he and Sam had two very different definitions. To him hooked up meant messing up the bed or at least sneaking away to the copy room for some afternoon delight. To Sam, it could be something as trivial as a shared kiss – hopefully not including those on stage or as a result of some childhood party game. Still, Puck wouldn't put it past Quinn to do something as shitty as cheat on her husband, and probably for no other reason than to prove a point or get attention. The dumbass she'd actually hooked up with had likely just been the wrong guy at the right time.

Unfortunately, that particular observation didn't make Sam feel better.

"I _know_ the guy, too. He's new and I thought he was cool." Sam shook his head violently, taking another shot and chasing it with his beer. "We talked about football and shit. I thought we were _friends_. I almost brought him to hang out with us!" He took another shot. "The night you brought Rachel. The night _before_ Quinn decided to take a giant _**dump**_ on the life we'd created!"

Sam lifted another shot to his lips but Mike reached over and stopped him, pleading with him to at least eat something. He sounded a little like a pussy to Puck, but then again Puck didn't want Sam puking his guts out on their walk back to the apartment. He was just happy the spare bedroom and bathroom were on the other side of his bedroom otherwise Puck was sure Sam's round-the-clock hurling would have prevented him from getting enough sleep after they'd stumbled in when the sun was rising yesterday.

The blond had moved to the portion of drunk where he just started babbling incoherently while blubbering like a baby, so Puck grabbed as many empty beer bottles as he could and walked toward the bar. The bartender had been eye-fucking the shit out of him since the walked in and now that she's had an hour to picture all the nasty things Puck could do to her, it was time to make his move. He set all the bottles down with a loud clang, forcing her to look over at him even though she'd been purposely – he knew all the games well – been avoiding eye contact. Then he ordered another round from a different bartender (a different girl), and like clockwork she was in his line of vision.

"Hey," he greeted with a lazy smirk, leaning against the bar top with both elbows. "Sorry about the extra work."

She giggled softly and shrugged, and Puck furrowed his brows. Was that even a response? Was that supposed to be endearing or, God help him, sexy? She flipped her hair, licked her lips, and then bit down on the corner of her lip and Puck felt sick. He sent up a pray to the Jew gods for giving him this reminder of why he'd stopped coming to these types of places to begin with. Why he'd all but given up on finding a chick who could actually engage him and excite him at the same time. Until … shit. Rachel.

"I have a break soon," she purred, Puck shaking his head to refocus on the girl in front of him instead of the girl currently running through his mind.

"Actually," he coughed, trying to cover up his sudden disinterest with a gentle segue. "I was wonderin' what you thought about my friend over there." He moved so she could better see where he was pointing. "The blond. His girl fucked him over big time and he's actually a super cool guy, so I dunno if you're interested, but …"

"Are you guys, like, roommates?"

Puck blinked, wondering what was the right answer. Because of the situation, Sam was technically his roommate. But if he said yes would she think he was gay or something? Or would she think that if he said no? He got the sneaking suspicion that she was only curious because she was hoping she still had a shot at him, which was only a little sad. Would she really be willing to take one for the team with Sam just on the off chance that her and Puck met up in the kitchen of his place and he suddenly had to have her? He wasn't going to say it was impossible – shit, Rachel – but looking at her he knew it was highly improbable.

So instead of answering, Puck just grabbed the three bottles of beer he'd ordered and walked back toward the table. He took a seat at the high-top chair he'd vacated earlier and passed Mike and Sam their drinks before lifting his own to his lips for a short pull. He swallowed on a sigh and then threw an arm around a still crying Sam, shaking him a little to garner his attention. He used the neck of the beer bottle to point toward the bar at the girl who was making drinks, hoping to Sam it looked like she was looking at him and not Puck.

"See that chick over there?"

He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands and moving his focus to the bar. "Huge rack?"

"Yea." Puck grinned. "She said you're super hot and asked if you were available. She's got a break soon and I'm pretty sure there are a few of those photo booth things in the back that would be wicked for screwing."

"Are you kidding me?"

Puck noted the disgust in his voice. "Don't worry; I've got condoms." As if that was the only reason not to have sex in public. "It will be good for you, man."

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Sam shook his head, pushing away the beer Puck had brought. "I love Quinn. I'm so mad at her right now that I can barely see straight …"

"I think that's the tequila."

"But I love her," he continued despite Mike's interruption. "We have a lot to talk about and work through, but … I could _never_ do that."

"Why the fuck not? She did it to you?"

"Ya know, I really would have thought you'd get it by now." Sam shook his head as condescendingly as his words came out, and Puck downed a shot in response to the lecture he heard coming. "Hell, I thought you _had_ figured it out. When you brought Rachel …"

"She's just another girl," he defended immediately, grabbing another shot.

"Have you slept with anyone else since you met her?" Mike asked with his eyebrows raised.

Puck glared at his friend, then glared harder when Mike and Sam shared a look that seemed like they already knew the answer when they most definitely did not. They didn't understand anything about the situation. Fuck, he didn't get it most of the time. All he knew was he wasn't a monogamist. He wasn't even sure if the concept was possible, evidence to that fact sitting right next to him. Why would he tie himself down to one woman when said woman could just end up fucking up his whole life in one instant?

"It's been a slow month," he finally responded, his voice low and flat.

Mike rolled his eyes and lifted his beer up to his lips, the corners of his mouth turning up before he swallowed and nodded with his head toward the entrance. Sam wobbled a little bit and looked back, Puck craning his neck over the blonde's frame to see what had caught Mike's eye. A group of about seven finished walking through the door, three men and four women, the first of which was none other than Rachel.

"Looks like things are about to pick up," Mike joked, Sam laughing and then raising his hands high above his head to wave the tiny brunette over. She smiled brightly if not curiously at the table, walking over and casually shooting Puck a glance before addressing the two other men. "Hey, Rachel."

"Hi, guys." She surveyed the leftover shot glasses still on the table and the beers. Puck looked fine if not a little tense. Mike looked exactly the same as she'd seen him before – a cross between content and bored. Sam, however, was swaying and if his display earlier to get her over here was any indication Rachel would guess that much of the missing alcohol had gone through his oversized lips. "Been here long?"

"Quinn cheated on me," Sam blurted out, moving to the part of the night where he stopped crying and instead became loud and disoriented. "Bitch." And belligerent.

"I …" Rachel didn't know Sam well enough to agree one way or the other, but that didn't stop her from being positively outraged. "I'm so sorry. That's awful!" She placed her hand gently on Sam's forearm. "I can't believe someone can be so selfish that they'd not only risk their marriage but put the integrity of their whole family in danger. You deserve so much more than someone who clearly doesn't appreciate what a genuinely nice guy you are."

And back to the crying. "Thanks, Rachel." The two hugged like they'd been best friends forever and Puck would have been upset about all the touching if he wasn't smiling at the way Sam's eyes suddenly sprung open. Rachel smelled like heaven to anyone who wasn't handfuls of tequila in, which was why Sam pulled back abruptly, looking pale and somehow green at the same time. "I … I think I'm going to be sick."

Puck chuckled humorlessly as Mike jumped out of his chair and dragged Sam away toward the restrooms. Rachel watched in horror as the pair left, but Puck just checked his watch. The hands were a little fuzzy, but it looked like Sam had completed all levels of his drunken night ahead of schedule. After puking his guts out, he'd start round two and, give or take an hour, Puck figured they'd be strolling into his apartment somewhere closer to two in the morning instead of five like yesterday.

"Why are you here?" He meant for it to come out conversationally, but his tone was demanding and harsh. Two weeks without seeing her and apparently he'd lost all sense of social conduct. "I mean … yea."

Rachel looked at him bemused, recalculating the alcohol consumption to account for his clearly elevated blood alcohol level. "A couple of girls were talking about going out dancing after the show, then a couple more tagged along, and then another two wanted to get drunk, and I wasn't really tired, so here we are."

She watched him bob his head, looking uninterested but captivated at the same time. Her eyes roamed over his frame and the two weeks of separation seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks. She had to bite her lip just to stop herself from moaning and she placed her hands on the high table to keep them from reaching out to touch him. She forced her eyes back in the direction Mike and Sam had gone, eventually trusting her voice enough not to quiver as she spoke.

"Do you think he's OK?"

"His wife cheated on him. I think OK went out the window."

She nodded her head sadly in agreement, bringing her gaze back to him. "While I don't necessarily condone such means as therapy, I think it is very admirable how you and Michael are taking care of your friend."

"It's just Mike." She knitted her eyebrows together. "His name isn't Michael."

"His parents named him Mike?"

"They were immigrants. What do you expect?" She sighed in frustration, as if she should have had a say on his official name. He laughed because it was just that ridiculous, and she frowned more. "He'll be back if you want to make a motion to amend it. He's always looked more like an Al to me."

Her smile broke before she could censor it, Rachel finally taking a seat in the vacant chair Mike had left. "That's quite alright, but I do need to give him these." She opened her purse and dug out three tickets from inside. "I thought maybe him and his wife would like to take their little girl to the musical." She bit her lip in embarrassment when he stared at her like she had three heads, taking a shot that had been hidden within all the empty glasses to calm her nerves. "I can get tickets whenever I want but never do since the only family I have is in Ohio."

"And all your friends are in the show."

She nodded sadly, and apparently this was the part of the evening where he'd feel like a dick. "Perhaps you can give them to him later? I feel terrible that I didn't consider Sam and his family might also like to go."

"My guess is they'll be busy goin' to counselin' and shit for awhile," he said while leaning forward, grabbing the tickets from her. He lifted out of his seat just enough to shove them in his back pocket and she leaned forward, too. He wasn't sure if it was because it was more comfortable or in response to his movement, but he liked it. It was like she was drawn to him, connected to him. He liked that kind of power.

It didn't have anything to do with him settling down, though. He hadn't slept with another girl because up until two weeks ago he was getting it rather steadily from Rachel. And, as they say, if it's not broke, don't fix it. Rachel was a good lay. There was no point and no need to seek out other women when he already had the best of the best in his bed. Plus, Rachel was also funny and smart and just interesting – nothing like the hair flipping bartender. She wasn't suffocating or demanding or even controlling.

She also wasn't his.

"All better!" Sam announced cheerily, cutting through the moment as he plopped down in his seat and lifted his hand up high to signal that he needed the attention of one of the waitresses.

"Well, you boys have fun." Rachel hopped off the high seat, smiling at Mike before looking back at Puck. He tipped his head toward her and then she walked away. She giggled merrily when two of her castmates immediately pulled her into their circle, making her do another shot and then forcing her to dance with them even if she didn't want to. They twirled around her and they all swayed their hips in time to the music, and somehow through the fog of her drinks and the crowd she could feel Puck's eyes on her. It made her nervous and excited at the same time, and she liked the power he had over her.

The hands she felt rest on her hips, however, were not his hands. These hands were smooth and cold, thick and demanding. These hands didn't set her on fire by just being _close_ to her body, and these hands were attached to a body that had no clue how to move itself let alone her. They weren't on her long, though, replaced by the antithesis of the hands from before. Gentle but strong, rough but controlled.

"Every prick in here is hopin' you'll bend down just a little."

Rachel smiled softly, her head turning just a little bit so she could speak to him more clearly but not lose the contact he'd created by whispering into her ear. His body fit hers like a glove and suddenly she wasn't so concerned with hot crowded the dance floor was. "It's incredibly hot outside. And to believe it's barely May."

"It's hot alright." Puck let his fingers curl under the tight, thin fabric of the tank top she was wearing, teasing the sliver of velvety skin he'd exposed. Rachel groaned quietly at the contact, not even bothering to notice that her castmates had been watching the exchange before they got uncomfortable and moved away from the pair. She was focused entirely on Puck and his touch, arching into it while the two continued to move in as close to the same rhythm as the song as they could. It was hard when it was the blood rushing by their ears and the quick beats of their hearts that they could hear more clearly, but they both tried.

Rachel lifted one of her hands to the back of Puck's neck, grinding her rear into him. As it was with almost every song played at the overcrowded bar, the song required a certain amount of friction and for once Rachel didn't mind obeying the music. She swirled her hips as tantalizing as she could, dizzy with lust just from the firm grip he had on her hips and the feel of his hot, ragged breath dancing across the skin of her neck. She could feel the music pulsating through her veins, but his touch coursed through the same vessels with an unmatched intensity.

"You seem like you're back to your old self."

"A little of the old, a little of the new," she answered vaguely, knowing their separation was going to come up eventually. Period aside, she had to deal with a lot of different emotions as a result of his diagnosis. She'd finally decided, with Kurt's help, that nothing had really changed, which was the part she was focusing on. The same part, she hoped, that Puck would focus on, too. "I'm still me." She circled her hips into his front a little more deliberately, sagging her head all the way back so the crown rested on his shoulder and her lips were right next to his ear. "And _all_ of me missed you."

Puck's hands dug into the soft skin of her hip, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes were wide and only a little glassy, both of them sober enough to know what they were doing. She nodded just enough to let him know she wasn't joking, and he crashed his lips against hers for a fiery kiss before pulling back and taking her hand. He plowed through a large group of people, tugging her along with him until they were in the somewhat secluded area of the back. He pushed her against the hard plastic surface of one of the photo booths he'd mentioned to Sam earlier, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth without warning.

She moaned in response, kissing him back just as heatedly. He released her hands and they immediately found themselves underneath his shirt, running up and down his torso and across his back. When she felt one of his hands lift up and fondle her breast, she gasped and dug her nails into his back. He hissed as he pulled his mouth off hers, finally just pushing her inside the booth so they'd have enough privacy that he could do what he _really_ wanted to do to her. What _she_ really wanted him to do to her.

"Now," she breathed out, securing the dark velvet curtain closed as Puck sat down on the small bench seat. He quickly grabbed a condom out of his wallet, putting the leather bifold back where it belonged before unzipping his pants and releasing his massive erection. He sheathed himself while Rachel just let her panties fall around her ankles, squealing in delight when Puck reached up and grabbed her hips. He turned her around and brought her down to his lap, snaking one hand in front of them to her clit while Rachel spread her legs to rest on the outside of each of his legs. She bent forward and lifted up just a little, calling out in ecstasy when he pulled her back down onto him.

Whether it was because they both knew they didn't have a lot of time or because two weeks had been too long, things got out of hand quickly. Rachel swiveled her hips expertly and Puck pounded up into her with reckless abandon. His one hand never left the juncture between her thighs, and he used his index finger and middle finger to pinch her clit. She thrashed her head from side to side as her back arched forward, her arms reaching out to rest against the plexiglass screen. The resistance pushed her harder into him and her orgasm hit her so quickly and so violently that it caused his own to follow. Each of them struggled to regain their breaths, Rachel slumping back against him.

Slowly the fog began to lift, his arms circling around her waist when she tilted her head back and over to capture his lips once again. She slid her tongue languidly across his, ending the embrace with a chaste kiss before she stood up on wobbly legs. She smiled bashfully when he bent forward and ran her panties back up her legs, adjusting them as necessary as he removed the condom and threw it in the integrated trash can on the machine and pulled his zipper up. They stumbled out of the booth unsteadily, Rachel turning back to face him.

"I should go hang out with my castmates." He nodded in agreement, knowing he had to get back to Mike and Sam anyway. "I'll see you next week?"

He nodded again, not exactly looking forward to going home but happy she would be there with him. Next to them the photo booth made a loud humming noise, startling them both until out popped two strips of black and white photos and they realized what had happened. He grinned wickedly and could only watch as she snatched the glossy paper from the bin. She looked them over like she was critiquing them on photographic quality, then slowly smiled and presented them in front of her but not _to _him.

"I'll be holding on to these." She winked and sauntered away without even a backward glance.

No, she wasn't his. But he could finally admit, at least to himself, that he wanted her to be.


	17. Art Imitating Life

**Author's Note:** I don't usually update during the weekends, but I just can't stay away. This chapter is almost entirely filler and just cute/fun, and I owe Jann for bringing it all together. It was a blast to write, but it is also shockingly short. Since the last chapter was so much longer than all the others, though, I think I break even now. :)

I do my best to send individual thank yous to everyone who responds, but to those of you just reading or to the anonymous reviewers, my undying gratitude goes out to you. To everyone else, the same plus begging for more. I had this crazy idea of how awesome it would be to get 500 reviews on this story by the time all is said and done. You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one ... so let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer:** Some dialogue at the beginning is not mine but rather property of the writers of the musical Beauty and the Beast. I reiterate, don't sue.

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><p>Rachel stood stage left, watching the actors who played the Beast and Gaston yell and fight with each other. Rather, the Beast was sulking and Gaston was doing much of the shouting and pushing. Then Gaston mentioned Belle and the Beast snapped. He became protective and animalistic, fighting back with Gaston. This was Rachel's cue to run across the stage, pretending as if she's in the back of the castle running from the entrance to the West Wing where the two men are fighting. Now from stage right, she watched the Beast grab Gaston by the collar and prepare to throw him down from the top of the castle. Rachel took a deep breath, waiting the necessary minute for the scene to progress before she sprung across the stage.<p>

"Beast!" She called out desperately, reaching her hand out over the rail of the balcony.

The Beast turned and immediately his face lit up, all the rage and sorrow from before replaced by a love and happiness so blinding that even Rachel believed the acting. Trent was an amazing performer, though in Rachel's opinion he looked better in the Beast costume than after he shed it all to play the Prince. Everyone assumed the two of them were romantically linked, but the truth was that while Trent was one of the few men on the cast who wasn't gay, he was secretly in love with the girl who played Babette – who was not so secretly "in love" with almost everyone.

"You came back."

"Take my hand." She reached out further, not missing a beat in the dialogue despite her wandering mind. She always gave her performance 120%, but she was just so talented that she didn't necessarily need to waste all her time and energy focusing on the other actors. She'd been playing this part for four years and preparing for it her whole life. She was nothing if not an incredible multi-tasker. After all, how does one become a triple threat without possessing such a skill?

As her and Trent went through the next scene, ending with yet another solo from Rachel, she couldn't help but let her mind wander. Kurt and Mercedes had remarked earlier that Rachel's performance had been better that night after her first tryst with Noah, and even the director had approached her recently regarding the very same thing. He had said that she'd always given stellar work, but something lately had pushed her over the top – he was certain she was going to get a Tony nomination for their production because of it. While Rachel initially denied any accusation that she hadn't already been giving her best, she now allowed herself to consider why she might seem like a better Belle.

Noah.

It was art imitating life. When they'd first met, he was most certainly the Beast. He was incorrigible and crass and heartless. He was crude and guarded and empty. Then things started to change. Their afternoon rendezvous turned into a nighttime dream and then they went to dinner and saw their chemistry didn't just exist in the bedroom. He'd taken her with him to his community outreach work and then spent the day with her. He'd invited her to go home with him and held her the whole night after he'd told her about the test results. And when she'd been emotionally at her worst – insecure and completely terrified that he wouldn't look at her the same again – they'd shared some of the best, dirtiest, hottest sex of her life and quickly put her mind at ease.

To her, he was turning into the Prince.

"Belle ... I …"

"Yes?" She choked, watching with tears spilling down her cheeks as he gasped for one more breath and then died in her arms. "No! No, please! Don't leave me." She sniffled, resting her head on his chest and then whispering, "I love you."

Rachel sobbed while the transformation took place, inwardly not wondering about the last scene but instead about the three little words she'd just spoken. They sounded much heavier this evening, raw even. She went through the whole last scene – duet and all – and through the entire post-performance schedule thinking about those three words and wondering if it felt different tonight because _she _felt different tonight. Like those words were itching to come out because she'd realized she'd been holding them in all week. Since she'd last been with Noah – her own personal mashup of the Beast/the Prince.

"Bravo! Bravo!" Her fathers greeted her backstage, Leroy effectively ending her thought process and almost her life with a strong bear hug. When he finally released her, her other father, Hiram, simply kissed her on the cheek and gave her the dozen roses in his hands. "Absolutely stunning, dear."

"Thank you, Daddy." Rachel blushed, watching her dad reach up and wipe his eyes. Both her fathers had seen the musical at least a dozen times since she'd started, but she never grew tired of their encouragement. Her fathers were her two most favorite people in the whole world and because of her hectic schedule she rarely got to see them. She hadn't expected to see them until Hanukah this year, but her father was asked to give a speech at his alma mater. They'd flown in a few hours ago and were driving the rest of the way to Cornell tomorrow. Tonight, they were all hers.

"Your performance was breathtaking, sweetie." Hiram smiled coyly, looking to his left and right before leaning in just a bit more to talk to his daughter more privately. "You have exceptional chemistry with that Beast/Prince fellow."

"Dad," Rachel groaned, her eyes closing in horror. "Trent and I are just friends."

"I'm not suggesting you have to marry the young man, muffin." Hiram shook his head. "But should your friendship blossom into something more, well then mazel tov!"

"Your father and I are simply worried about our little girl being all alone in this big city," Leroy explained before Rachel could again rebut Hiram's meddling.

"I'm not alone," she assured for what she felt was probably the hundredth time since she'd turned single. "I have plenty of friends."

Hiram and Leroy shared a look that Rachel immediately knew wasn't good for her. "Yes, and friendships are important. But, it is unhealthy for a grown woman of your stature to surround herself with men who are cute and charming but emotionally unavailable."

"We don't want you to settle, dear," Hiram amended quickly. "You never have when it comes to your career and that is precisely why I _know _you will find yourself with a Tony nomination at the end of this weekend."

"It's just a rumor that they'll be announced this weekend, Daddy, and I don't want to think about it," she commented nervously.

"You deserve everything this life has to offer you, baby girl." Leroy again took over the reins of the conversation. "And while you've obviously found your niche professionally, your father and I simply want to see you pursue a love life with the same amount of vigor."

"And it might be easier for you to find that missing link if you weren't such a magnet for gay men," Hiram concluded.

Rachel's jaw flapped open, shock the only emotion she could muster up. It was in her eyes, on her face, and most certainly written in her body language. She was speechless for far longer than she cared to be, but her retort was lost when Kurt slowed and greeted Rachel's parents merrily before continuing on his way. She'd later refer to it as the winning moment of the world's worst timing _ever_. She could have killed him. But then, like a light bulb shining over her head, she got an idea.

"Finn!" She blurted out, noticing not just her fathers' eyebrows knit together but Kurt _literally_ stopped and walked backward. He looked at her quizzically and all she could do was shrug helplessly. She was usually such a careful planner, but they had caught her off guard. There was no going back now. "I just started seeing Kurt's brother, Finn. I, um, didn't want to tell you because it's new and we're taking things slow and I don't want to jinx anything, so …"

"Oh, honey!" Hiram gushed.

"Kurt!" Leroy ushered the young man closer, Rachel avoiding his prying eyes only because Hiram wrapped his arms around her and proceeded to bounce excitedly. "This brother of yours, is he a good man?"

"Yes, sir." Leroy was intimidating at best, and Rachel knew Kurt suddenly felt like a teenager asking for her father's permission to take her to the school dance. She could see him sweating from here and Kurt _hated_ to sweat. She was going to owe him majorly for this. "He's a little sloppy and a constant fashion victim, but he is a good person."

"What does he do?" Leroy further interrogated, Kurt swallowing nervously.

"He is a, uh, teacher. He moved here about a month ago now after being in South America working for Teachers Without Borders."

Hiram actually squealed, this time pulling Kurt into a hug. Rachel couldn't stop the giggle that escaped, at least not until Kurt shot her a death glare so effective that she didn't just stop laughing, she stopped breathing. Yes, she owed him big. And, evidently, he was going to seek payment immediately.

"We're actually having lunch tomorrow in Central Park." He tossed her a loaded glance. "You're _welcome_ to join us if you'd like."

"Oh no, don't be silly," Rachel jumped in, now looking at Kurt with the same deadly look he'd given her earlier.

"Unfortunately, Rachel's right to protest. We were planning on leaving before lunch since it is a little bit of a drive up to Cornell …"

"But, _honey_, we could …"

"I'm not going to be in town tomorrow!" She interrupted louder than necessary, blushing and scowling at Kurt at the same time. Her fathers looked at her questionably and Rachel sighed before starting her explanation. "I didn't tell you sooner because I knew you'd already be on your way up north, but I'm actually going to be flying to Ohio tomorrow with ... a friend."

Neither of her fathers bought it for a second and Rachel had to quickly figure out how she was going to get out of her previous lie without actually admitting she lied. She wasn't terribly good at doing it in the first place, and probably would have fumbled the whole Finn thing if it hadn't been at least partially true. After all, he was Kurt's brother. _And_ some could argue that they were taking things slow. Really, really, _really_ slow.

"His name is Noah, and let me just say that he's …"

"Gay!"

Kurt butted in, Rachel's eyes widening as her neck almost snapped when it turned so quickly to face her friend. She saw her fathers in her periphery share another painful look like the one they had when Kurt originally greeted them, and Rachel wanted to kill Kurt all over again. Except she saw that this wasn't about payback. He wasn't being a terrible friend, but rather an _amazing_ one. He'd given her the perfect lie, and _told it for her!_

"If it weren't for Blaine, I would be on that in a second, you know?" Kurt continued, swinging his arm around Rachel and smiling a little too brightly. "Anyway, we've been standing out here for a day and a half. What's say we go to your dressing room and gather your costumes so they can be washed and then you three can continue with your evening?"

Rachel and Kurt practically ran into her dressing room, falling against the closing door in a fit of laughter. She was laughing more out of nervousness and because she'd gotten away with her fib than because she was particularly amused by the situation. Kurt was still laughing when Rachel hit him softly with the bouquet of flowers her father had given her, eventually shoving them into his chest when she noticed her cell phone vibrating on her vanity. She looked down at the screen and saw that she had missed two text messages from Noah. The first was the flight information for their trip tomorrow with the time he'd come pick her up. The second was an offer that she could spend the night at his place so they could sleep in a little longer and he could save on cab fare.

_Free room and board?_

She texted back with a smile, avoiding Kurt's rolling eyes as she set the phone down and went into her bathroom to change out of her last costume. She ran out half-dressed, the other half covered by a towel, when she heard her phone vibrate again.

_There's a small fee. … What r u wearin?_

Rachel blushed, texting the truth; he didn't need to know how innocent the situation really was. Kurt looked at her bemused, extending his hand out so she could hand him the costume and he could be on his way. Her blush deepened, and then all color drained from her face when her phone vibrated again. Only, this time, it wasn't a text. The screen lit up with his name and the option to either answer the call or ignore it. She held her breath and silently told Kurt to keep quiet before she pressed the green button and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Are you shittin' me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where are you? Why are you half naked?"

"I don't believe you've ever questioned my lack of attire with such disdain in your voice before, Noah." Rachel ignored Kurt's gagging gesture, focusing on the phone call instead.

"How soon can you get here?"

Regrettably, she actually thought about it. Two wonderful people – leaving out the fact that they were her fathers and practically all the family she had – waiting for her outside and she _actually _considered cancelling the whole thing to be with Noah instead. Honestly, she was ashamed of herself, but not much. Frankly, while she recognized that perhaps Noah was changing as a person and she might be the cause of that change, Rachel had also come to terms with the fact that she was changing, too. And Noah most certainly was the cause.

"Unfortunately, I can't. My fathers are in town for the night and we're on our way to a late dinner." She bit her lip as a smile crept onto her face, the next thought coming out brighter than necessary simply because she knew what his answer would be. If she knew him at all, she knew this would be fun. "You're more than welcome to join of us if you are interested."

"I'd rather die." She laughed at his unapologetic bluntness. "See ya tomorrow."

"Bye." Rachel hung up the phone, looking up at Kurt. She didn't let her smile fade nor did she feel bad about it. She simply waltzed right up to him and handed him the last costume, smirking wickedly when she turned around and tossed over her shoulder, "Definitely _not_ gay."


	18. Sex, Lies, and a Slumber Party

**Author's Note:** I remembered why I don't update on Sunday; it's because I never have ANY time to write on Mondays, making it nearly impossible to update on Tuesdays. That being said, this chapter is short and being posted without my usual 5-times-over re-reading. Shout out to my girl Jann for helping me out, and a sweeping YOU ROCK to everyone reading and reviewing. Please continue to do so because I'm needy. Thanks and enjoy!

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><p>Puck strutted out of the terminal with his arm slung around Rachel's shoulders, a wide grin on his face. There weren't many people exiting the plane from New York to Columbus, but none of the other passengers looked particularly happy. It was obvious those making their way through the airport's arrival gates were all there on business, or at the very least an unsatisfactory layover. No one willingly went to Ohio when they could have been in New York, so the depressed faces were understood even if (for once) they were not shared.<p>

"Could you at least _try_ to appear as if we didn't just engage in sexual intercourse?"

"On. A. Plane." His words were quiet but purposeful, causing her to blush even more than she was already. He wasn't sure why he enjoyed riling her up as much as he did, but he was fairly certain it had something to do with the aftertaste of her rage. All passion and fiery hotness and, in the case of twenty minutes ago, thousands of feet in the air.

"How can you possibly only have one bag for the entire weekend?" She asked instead of continuing the embarrassing and rather cyclic conversation. They'd already argued about the very same thing when they'd checked in, and she really didn't want to bicker with him anymore than they already had pretty much the whole time since he came to pick her up. What she wanted less, however, was for him to remember and point out that the whole mile-high club thing had been her idea. That would be no good for anyone. "Is your mother picking us up?"

"Unfortunately, yes." He grunted when she quickly moved her hand to swat across his chest. "Fuck. You can't hit me for sayin' shit like that. _You_ don't know her."

"It's still very inconsiderate, _especially_ if she's taking the time out of her day to cater to our travel itinerary."

"Please. She probably fuckin' camped out just waitin' for us to arrive." He shook his head comically, taking the final stairwell to get to the baggage claim area. Right on cue, his mother caught sight of the pair and sprung from her seat with cat-like reflexes. Her long, curly black hair flowed behind her, the snap of her flip-flops against the hard linoleum floor echoing in the almost vacant area. The squeal she emitted as she drew closer startled both of them – and likely everyone else in about a five-mile radius.

"Noah!" She finally gushed when she was only ten feet away, her arms coming out in presentation. Puck relented with a groan, prepared to take the full weight of her iron grip like a man, but then she veered her course and enveloped Rachel instead. He blinked once, catching Rachel's surprised expression from over his mother's shoulder. "You must be Rachel!"

"You better fuckin' hope so, Ma, otherwise you just assaulted a random stranger."

"Frankly, son, she _is_ a random stranger because you have been so selfish to keep this _gorgeous_ woman all to yourself." She nudged him with his shoulder, adding quietly but not quietly enough, "Not that I blame you."

"Ma …"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Puckerman."

"Oh, please. Call me Leah." She didn't say it – thankfully – but Puck could hear it anyway. If his mother had anything valuable to give away, Rachel would have just been added to the will. "When Noah first told me last month that he had started seeing someone seriously, I thought he was just fooling. But, here you are! In the flesh!"

"Here I am," she mimicked comically, her eyes drifting over to Puck's. He looked like he was either considering killing his mom or killing himself, both of which were kind of hilarious given the circumstances. Rachel didn't feel right about torturing him too much given the fact that she'd done almost the very same thing last night with her fathers, but that didn't mean she couldn't have _any _fun. "Noah, darling?"

"Yea?" He grumbled, hearing the way her voice went up an octave at the last syllable. She was teasing him, he knew, but he still almost wanted to call the whole thing off. Girlfriend? Really? Why didn't she just cut off his nuts and feed them to that seeing-eye dog in the security line? _That_ would have been better. He eyed her suspiciously, seeing the glint in her eye and knowing it wasn't the sparkle that led to sex.

"Could you get my bag for me, please?"

"Oh, gracious. You shouldn't even ask such a thing. Noah, you don't possibly expect her to shlep around her belongings when you have two very capable hands."

"Very capable," he repeated with a wink tossed toward Rachel. He considered them even when her blush crept up her neck and she stumbled to segue into small talk with his mother. He left his bag by their feet and walked toward the rotating carousel where their luggage was spinning around in circles. It didn't take him long to find Rachel's bag. Not only was it as big as two normal-sized bags, but it was also pink. And not just pink, but _bright_ pink.

"Noah!" His mother admonished as soon as he was in earshot, which for her didn't necessarily mean he was close even though in this case he was. "You didn't tell me Rachel was vegan!"

"Sorry?"

"I had a wonderful plan for us to eat dinner at this splendid kosher restaurant Sarah and I found here a couple of years ago and now …"

"Mrs. Puckerman, honestly it is fine. There's always something I can nosh on, I assure you."

Leah's face broke out into a smile so wide that it looked painful. Legit, Puck was surprised she lasted that long without just flat out asking Rachel if she was Jewish. "Well, let's get going then! I left the car in a no parking zone!"

The three made their way to the car, Leah and Rachel chatting mindlessly about Broadway or whatever while Puck dragged Rachel's trunk of clothes and his itty, bitty bag. His mother insisted Rachel sit up front with her while Puck sat in the back like a child. Seriously? Wasn't she on the phone just three weeks ago giving him shit about her never getting to spend time with him? Now here he was, being treated like last night's leftover scraps. He almost didn't want to get out of the car when they reached the restaurant just to see if she would have noticed.

"Yes, hello. Table for Puckerman, four."

"Four?" He questioned quickly, looking around. "Is Sarah comin'?"

"No, unfortunately no. She's terribly excited to see you but because we are having the graduation party tomorrow evening in Lima, she needs to spend tonight packing her belongings from the dormitory."

"Yes, ma'am, someone from your party has already been seated, so please follow me."

Rachel watched curiously as Puck moved to the front of their pack, his posture tense as he nipped on the heels of the hostess. Sitting alone at a table set for four was a middle-aged man with thinning black hair and a clean shaven face. He looked nervous and utterly adorable in a buttoned-up dress shirt and tie, his hands hidden underneath the table but no doubt sweating as he rubbed them over his slacks. When he caught sight of Leah – the only one he knew in the group – he quickly stood, a smile spreading onto his face.

"Hello!" He looked to Rachel and Puck. "I'm Elliot."

Rachel extended her hand out when Puck just stared at the man. "Pleasure. My name's Rachel."

"Yes, of course. I've heard so much about you."

Puck groaned in response, shooting Rachel a look like any of this was her fault. She looked back at him with an equal amount of exasperation, only breaking the stare to accept the seat Elliot had pushed out for her. She immediately unfolded her napkin, inconspicuously watching the men shake hands then take their respective seats. The tension around the table was palpable, and Rachel found herself taking a sip from the glass of water to her side even though she rarely ever trusted such beverages.

They spent the rest of dinner in pretty much the same fashion, never quite getting over the awkwardness but finding their way around some safe conversations long enough to get them through the meal. Elliot had moved to Lima a few months ago after changing careers and he and Leah met at the synagogue. Puck's mom kept assuring everyone in random ways that they were taking things slow and weren't too serious yet, but it was obvious that things were going well between the two of them. Elliot had already met Sarah and was now meeting Puck, too, so they weren't exactly casual.

Not like Puck and Rachel.

"Noah, dear." Leah nodded her head toward the side of the restaurant. There was a dance floor erected over the carpet flooring and a few couples were actually dancing to the soft music coming from the ceiling. "Don't be a putz!"

"I, for one, will not." Elliot stood, extending his hand out toward Leah. "May I?"

She blushed and nodded simultaneously, lifting out of her seat and following Elliot to the dance floor. Puck and Rachel watched the couple for a few moments, both ignoring the pointed looks tossed their way. Unless it was dancing like last week, they weren't interested. Plus, this was the first free moment between them in the last three hours, and they were going to take advantage of it.

"Your mother is lovely, Noah. And beautiful." Her eyes flicked back to the dance floor. "She doesn't look very old enough to have two kids who are college graduates. How old is she?"

"She turns 51 next month."

"How old are you?" Rachel was embarrassed she had to ask, but then again she was pretty sure he wouldn't know her age if she hadn't put so much emphasis on her upcoming birthday when she first met him.

"I turned 31 in January." He noticed her eyes widen, even if only a little bit. "She got knocked up pretty young."

"And your sister is just now graduating college?"

"They named her Sarah but Whoops would have probably been a better fit." He chuckled humorlessly. "They meant to just stop at perfection, ya know?" He grazed his hand over his frame, and it was Rachel's turn to fake laughter. "I love her and shit, but she was just a Band-Aid on a marriage that shoulda never happened."

Rachel bowed her head, considering his words for a few seconds. She had alluded to his past during her drunken night, but this was confirmation. Puck came from a broken family, one that still obviously affected him. His commitment issues aside, the way he acted toward Elliot this evening was almost endearing now that she knew it wasn't him necessarily being childish, but rather him being protective. He clearly had been forced to be the man of the house at a young age, and obviously he still considered himself to hold that title even from hundreds of miles away.

"Elliot seems nice, too."

"Yea." His nose scrunched up a little, his eyes traveling over to the dance floor and watching the couple dance merrily. It had been awhile since he'd seen his mom that happy. Or happy at all. "It's probably good for her, empty nest and all."

Rachel couldn't help herself, she leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. Puck bowed his head and then turned it toward her, shrugging his shoulders emptily before pushing forward and pressing his lips to hers. It was soft and tender and didn't last particularly long, but for some reason it made her want him even more than all the other embraces they'd shared.

"Look at the time!" Leah interrupted with a wide grin, coming in at the exact moment she wanted to, no doubt. "We have to be up bright and early for the ceremony tomorrow morning, and I'm sure you two are exhausted from your flight."

Puck grinned at Rachel wickedly and she managed to sneak a slap across his arm without either his mother or Elliot noticing. The two of them waited by Leah's car while Elliot paid for the meal and then said his goodbyes to Leah. Apparently he was meeting some old friends at a bar nearby, but he promised to see them all again tomorrow at the graduation ceremony. Mrs. Puckerman, on the other hand, wasn't letting the two adults out of her sight. So much so, in fact, that she'd only booked one room. Rachel tried to convince her that she could buy her own room, and that she wasn't comfortable intruding any more than she already was, but _again_ Leah insisted. Besides, there was another graduation other than OSU's tomorrow and the hotel was completely full.

They were trapped.

"Hey," Rachel whispered when she crawled under the covers. Her and Puck were sharing one of the double beds while Mrs. Puckerman slept in the other. She'd insisted that she wasn't naïve enough to think the two of them weren't sleeping together – a moment that had completely mortified Rachel but simply caused Puck to laugh – but demanded they show some restraint in the hotel. Frankly, Rachel considered sleeping in the bathtub.

"Hey," he whispered back, still trying to get comfortable on the shitty mattress. His mother was already snoring up a storm, so loud that there was really no point to them whispering. He already knew a marching band could come through the room and it wouldn't wake her; it was a perk for a guy who spent much of his formative years climbing in and out of his bedroom window at all hours of the night. Right now it was just annoying.

"This feels like a slumber party," she joked. "I feel like I'm in high school."

He grinned, agreeing with her. "So we gonna dry hump or what?"

"Noah," she chastised quietly, rolling her eyes. "Show some restraint."

"That is restraint." He crept closer to her frame, his right leg making contact with her left. She scooted away just an inch, moving her hands from below her head to press against his chest. He frowned at her upper body strength, relenting to her stronghold only after considering that if his mom _did_ wake up, she'd probably start cheering him on or some shit. She was no doubt sleeping with visions of Jewish grandbabies dancing in her head.

"Your mother said she wanted to be at the arena by six."

"Six? The thing doesn't even start until eight."

"Precisely. To leave by six, I'll need to be up by five and I'm sorry to say I haven't seen that particular hour of the day in a very long time." Even in the dark he could see the determination in her eyes. "I need my beauty sleep."

"You're plenty beautiful."

Her argument was lost somewhere between her mouth and her throat, his words the only ones that seemed to matter. She'd heard him call her hot before, gorgeous, sexy, and even a vixen once. But … beautiful. That was a new one, and something that held greater meaning to her. Something that, against all logic, caused her to angle into him. He turned into her as well, his hand resting on the curve of her waist as her right leg lifted from the mattress and curled over his left leg.

"Whatcha doin'?" He teased, hiking his left leg up a little so his knee rested against her core. He could feel the warmth and he censored his groan on the off chance that his mother would hear them. This wasn't exactly like high school for him because he'd never brought any of those chicks home to meet his mother, but he definitely knew the merits of being stealthy. His mom was more like a crocodile than anything; it would be the movement that triggered her attention.

"Nothing," she replied innocently, her hands skimming down his bare chest and then over the cotton fabric of his pajama pants. "Nothing any girlfriend wouldn't do for her boyfriend."

"Laugh it up, Chuckles," he muttered, his hand moving from the dip of her waist to her lower back, pulling her flush against him. Her light giggles immediately fell away, replaced by a drawn out, breathy sigh. She tilted her head up, their faces not even an inch apart. "I had to tell her somethin'."

"She's not _that_ bad, Noah." Her hands had been forced off his chest after his sudden movement, now just the one mindlessly running up and down his back. It was as hypnotic as it was soothing, both their eyes closing even as they continued to speak softly. "You're lucky to have a mother who is so obviously dedicated to your happiness."

"It's _her_ happiness with _my_ life. It's different."

Rachel snorted out a laugh, shrugging one shoulder. "I suppose I can understand that. Both of my fathers can be equally overbearing." She bit her lip, prying her eyes open but keeping them off him. She knew they were already walking a fine line, but there was a part of her that wanted to tell him the truth on the offhand chance that later, when they got together, they'd have to figure out together a way out of the lie. "Which is why when they asked about this trip I told them you were gay."

Her words came out in a soft rush, but his delayed response had nothing to do with some inability to hear or understand her. His eyes had snapped open and he waited a minute or so until he realized she was purposefully avoiding his stare before grunting out his disdain. "The fuck?"

She looked up apologetically, giving him the eyes that he hadn't ever seen from her but knew very well thanks to his mother and sister. It was surprising considering how much experience Puck had as a heartbreaker, but he was an absolute sucker for _that _look. Plus, he knew he had to mostly let her off the hook after she'd played along with his girlfriend lie without much ridicule or even questions. There would no doubt be a new layer of deception needed tomorrow if as much of the small town showed up for Sarah's graduation party as he figured would, and her cooperation was vital.

"If my Ma wasn't five feet away, I'd show you just how gay I'm _not_."

Rachel flushed, _feeling_ exactly what he meant. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

They'd been close the entire time, but for whatever reason Puck had just noticed. It felt like their bodies were fused together, and the only thing not touching was their lips. It was time to rectify that. "Still worried about your beauty sleep?"

"What did you have in mind, Dr. Puckerman?"

He grinned in response, his head moving back to rest against her pillow, his eyes falling to her mouth. Her lips were parted slightly, a whisper of her minty breath mingling with his. Her tongue peaked out to swipe across her smooth, plump bottom lip. He was reminded of their kiss earlier in the evening at the restaurant, and once again he was compelled to brush his lips across hers. Usually their kisses were rushed and frantic, the first step to something more. But without that next step in the cards, Puck was willing to savor the taste of her pouty, pink lips.

"Wanna make out?"


	19. Celebrating with Family

**Author's Note:** Well, so much for my updating streak. Better late than never though, right? The only shred of good news I have to plug that might get me back on your guys' good graces is that I'm super excited for the next chapter, so hopefully that means I'll write it quickly and be able to get back into the regular swing of things. Honestly, I can't thank y'all enough for your support and patience, and I hope this chapter (and all the others) live up to your expectations! Enjoy (and review)!

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><p>Rachel typically tried to stay engaged in any conversation going on around her. Part of it was her desire to be included and part of it was due to the fact that she had an opinion about everything. That wasn't necessarily the case sitting in the Puckerman's backyard while listening to several people she didn't know talk about someone else she didn't know doing something in a place she didn't recognize. Rachel grew up in small-town Ohio just the same as these people, and she imagined she could switch out names and places from Lima to her hometown and it could very well be the same story, but frankly she didn't care enough to try.<p>

She was more interested in noticing the people surrounding her that she _did_ recognize. For instance, immediately next to her was Puck's mom. Leah hadn't really sat down since they arrived in Lima, but Rachel had spent a lot of time with her helping in the kitchen. There had been enough food prepared to feed an army, which was exactly what showed up two hours ago. Everyone was there to support Sarah, but mostly they had heard Puck was bringing home a girl and they'd flocked to the Puckerman's backyard to scope out the fresh meat.

Rachel wasn't particularly intimidated by the attention, as she was used to it both because of her career and because of her own childhood. There were a few younger women who she could tell weren't exactly pleased to see Puck was allegedly off the market, and they made their disdain quite obvious. Rachel didn't let their jealousy affect her mood, but it had been nice when Puck made a spectacle out of one of their embraces. He'd said he figured he owed it to the town to stir up the gossip mill a little, but Rachel never needed an excuse to be kissed by him.

Next to Leah was Elliot, who had been the picture of a perfect gentleman all day. Early this morning he met Leah, Rachel, and Puck at the arena for Sarah's graduation. He cheered just as loudly as Rachel and Puck when Sarah's name was called; no one could have cheered louder than Mrs. Puckerman. On the drive to Lima, he escorted Leah home while Puck drove his mother's car and spent the whole time catching up with Sarah. The two siblings were strikingly similar despite the age and gender difference, their mannerisms and even speech very much the same.

"Rachel, where's Noah?"

Rachel tilted her head up, regarding Puck's little sister. "I'm not sure. He went into the house a few minutes ago."

"Probably takin' a leak. Thanks!"

Sarah turned on her heel and headed back to the house, Rachel watching with an amused expression. The young woman only stopped once to greet some late arriving cousins, and Rachel once again lost herself in her surroundings. It might be small-town Ohio, and it might be boring and poorly catered, but there was a lot of love in the tiny backyard. That's how it usually was in small towns, and admittedly the one thing she missed since moving to the city.

Her fathers were worried about her being alone, which she wasn't, but she definitely did miss the sense of home that was never missing at her fathers' house. New York was home – a place where she felt needed and felt like she belonged – but she missed her fathers. She missed being surrounded by people who wanted to hear something from her besides the words and songs from _Beauty and the Beast_. She missed coming home and talking about her day or plans for the weekend. Even just sitting in the same room with them and watching a movie or hearing them discuss a case they were working on while she did something else.

She missed being a family.

Granted, Rachel wasn't used to family events. She was the product of a one-child home, and both her fathers were only children as well. Hiram's parents had died when she was very young, and Leroy's parents weren't in the picture either; they weren't dead, but they didn't agree with their son's lifestyle. But Rachel, Leroy, and Hiram were their own family. They had their own traditions and inside jokes. They supported each other like any family should, and while she loved her parents to death and never grew up feeling like anything was missing, her upbringing was one of the main reasons she'd always kept children in the back of her mind. Maybe it was some innate attempt to strive for some semblance of normalcy, but she always envisioned being a part of a more traditional family - a mom, a dad, and siblings like Sarah and Noah who teased each other mercifulness but loved each other.

"I _am_ the smarter one. I only had to go to college for four years. You went for seven!" Sarah argued as her and Puck walked out of the house.

"Yea, well, my job pays for a penthouse suite in New York City. You'll be lucky to move out of Ma's house at the end of the summer."

"A suite where I have a free room," she countered arrogantly, then segued to why she had apparently been searching for him to begin with. "Which I was hopin' we could talk ab …"

"Absolutely not."

"Noah!" She whined immediately, continuing to explain all the reasons it would be great for her to live with him for the summer. Rachel wanted to keep listening, if only because it was amusing to watch how little Puck cared about hurting his little sister's feelings in his vehement refusal to even budge on the subject, but she heard her cell phone ringing from inside her purse. She figured it was her fathers letting her know how the ceremony had gone, but instead it was a text from Kurt.

_Turn. On. TV._

She started blankly at the device, not quite understanding the urgency or even the meaning of the text. Once she did, though, she didn't text him back but instead just excused herself quietly and made her way inside the house. Her heart was racing and she tried to tell herself to calm down but she couldn't. She pressed the power button for the television and navigated her way to a channel that she figured was appropriate for the type of news she was expecting to find. Her phone vibrated in her hand and she looked down to see there was a new message from Mercedes.

_OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!_

Rachel looked back up at the TV as it came back from commercial, the crawl catching her eye first. She must have read through the whole thing at least three times, the host's voice echoing in her mind at the same time. Both matched up and yet she still wanted to be skeptical. Her life flashed before her eyes and, for all her bravado and self-assuredness, she couldn't believe it had actually happened.

"Hidin' out?" Puck asked with a smirk, the back screen door slamming shut behind him. Rachel didn't even look back, and he approached her slowly, wondering what was going on. They still had at least three hours left of the party, and he couldn't afford for her to be pissed at him. People were here to see Sarah, but Rachel was basically the life of the party. Or she had been. Now she was basically catatonic and considering she was looking at the TV he figured maybe some bad weather was coming.

He looked at the screen, listening as the entertainment host continued to report the breaking news. He blinked in confusion and then flicked his eyes down to read the crawl, waiting the full three minutes it took to read it again in case he'd missed it the first time. Then, slowly, he looked back at her face, confused by the blank expression still staring at the screen.

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" Rachel hadn't realized he was next to her, slowly tearing her eyes off the television. "That's some fuckin' celebrity status shit, Berry!"

Rachel giggled when he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground he held her so tight. When she was back on her two feet, she allowed herself a few more seconds to absorb his excitement as well as her own. Her heart was still racing and when she placed her hands on each side of his chest, she could feel his was, too. It was probably because he'd exerted a good amount of energy lifting her up, but she liked to think part of it might be that he was proud of her.

She was officially a Tony nominated performer.

"Noah, let's not make a big deal about this."

Puck furrowed his brows, confused by her words. Say what? First speechless, now modest? This was not the Rachel Berry he had known for the past month.

"This is your sister's big day. We've already stolen far too much of the focus because of your lie and I refuse to take away anymore from her accomplishment."

He stared at her in awe for a moment, thinking that as probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for his sister and Rachel didn't even know the girl. Still, he shook his head and grabbed her hand. "Fuck that noise."

He pulled her into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of champagne from the crate his mom had on hand for later tonight when they made some official toast to Sarah. He pushed the bottle into her chest and then yanked her out of the front of the house, silently ordering her into his old truck that his mom still had. The thing barely ran but they weren't going far. Three country roads and a dirt trail later, Puck pulled into a spot of land next to a large tree that overlooked a small lake.

"Where are we?" She asked curiously, literally hopping out of the truck due to its size. Her eyes wandered over the area, soaking in the hidden treasure. The grass was a pristine shade of green and the water looked crisp and clean. The tree was large but looked healthy, and with the sun setting in the distance the place looked more like a painting than reality.

"This was my spot." He followed her toward the water, the bottle of champagne tucked under his arm. "It's private property but there's no way for the cops to know if someone is here or not so they never check."

"Clever." She rolled her eyes, leaning against the tree. "I'm sure the girls were equally excited by you and the danger of it all."

He chuckled. "There's probably still some condoms in the trunk of that tree."

She scrunched her nose up in disgust, accepting the outstretched bottle. She bit her lip and took a sip right from the bottle like he had done. Then, again like him, she sat down on the ground, letting her back rest against the hard bark of the tree. She took another sip of the champagne, then passed the bottle back to him.

"That makes it official." He quirked up one eyebrow at her sudden announcement. "_Everything_ I thought about you has turned out wrong."

"Everything?"

She nodded, accepting the bottle again. "I had you pegged for city bred, the baby in the family, and the type of debonair cultivated in college." She shook her head, swallowing a large gulp at the same time. "And here you are, big brother heartbreaking country boy." She took another long sip. "And while I'd like to think I would have been smart enough to see right through your game, I suspect I would have fallen for it."

She smiled softly, seeing his chest puff out a little in pride but too lost in thought to call him on his arrogance. She often thought about how her life might be different if just high school hadn't been such a rough time for her. Rachel knew it wasn't particularly groundbreaking to be a teenage girl and feel like an outcast, but her position in the social hierarchy wasn't just a delusion or a product of her vivid imagination. She was tormented throughout her into childhood, most especially high school. And she wasn't just the lowest rank on the totem pole, your average freak. She was no one.

"I wasn't very popular in high school," she admitted in a low voice, shrugging emptily. "Last night when I said it felt like high school, I was being presumptuous. I never really had friends back then … or was invited to parties – slumber or not." Her head sagged and, if possible, her voice grew even quieter. "Everyone hated me. Or at least thought I was crazy."

"You are crazy," he answered with a shake of his head. Rachel nodded sadly after taking a sip of champagne, fiddling with the label on the bottle. He yanked the bottle out of her hands, waiting for her to look up at him before he used it to point at her. "But I like it."

She blushed, leaning her back deeper into the tree but also letting her side press against him. "Would you have liked it in high school?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"It was my understanding that reputations were like currency in high school."

He scoffed. "I didn't fuckin' care about that shit." He tilted the bottle back, letting the tepid liquid slide down his throat for two long swallows. "I fooled around a lot, sure, but my rep was all about perception. They just saw the Mohawk …"

"I saw that," she interrupted with a giggle that may or may not have been louder due to her increasing blood alcohol level. "Your mother has a shrine to you in the living room. I thought terrible haircuts stopped after the '80s."

"… and heard the stories about the girls," he continued, undeterred by her mockery. "It was enough for no one to really notice that I never really got into any real trouble. Had to keep my grades legit for sports, plus my mom would have had my balls on a plate if I fucked up too bad." He moved the arm that she had been leaning against, slinging it over her shoulders while she fell a little heavier into his side. "So, sure. You're crazy but still pretty cool, so I bet you were cool then, too. People probably just didn't see it."

She lifted her head from off his shoulder, regarding him for a long moment before a slow smile crossed onto her face. "I guess I wasn't entirely wrong." He looked at her questionably in his periphery, keeping his head resting back against the tree. "Underneath …" She trailed off, biting her lip and placing her head back on his shoulder to avoid his stare out of embarrassment. "You're the prince."

Puck was glad she had looked away, otherwise she would have seen his practiced ambivalence immediately falter at her words. Aside from his mother and sister, no one actually thought Puck was capable of being a good person. And he'd certainly given Rachel enough reasons not to believe it either. But, for whatever reason, she did.

He dropped his knees and crossed his one leg over the other, mirroring her. They were quiet for a long while, each just watching the scene play out in front of them. The bright, clear water turned dark along with the sky, the natural canvas looking more like a bottomless pit once the sun set completely. The only light that could be seen was from the moon, only a soft glimmer from the crescent shape hitting the pair.

"You're my first celebrity," Puck joked randomly, tipping back the bottle only to realize they'd drank it all.

"A Tony does not exactly make me famous. Besides, I haven't won anything yet."

Modesty again? She must be drunk. "What's that bullshit line they always say?" He paused. "It's an honor just to be nominated?"

"It is," she assured.

"So you don't wanna win?" He teased, leaning a little more into her than he had been.

"I didn't say that."

"Ya know," he began charmingly, invading her space so much that eventually her back rested against the ground and she stared up at him. "They say your chances of winning double if you have sex on the day you find out your nominated."

"Who says that?" She asked comically, her hands lifting up on their own accord to trail up his torso and then snake around his neck.

"You know." He widened his eyes, making the twinkle of mischief even more obvious. "_They_."

She giggled into his assault, knowing she should stop him but also knowing that she'd been denying her desire for him all day not to mention a bulk of the day before. His lips were deliberate on the sensitive skin of her neck, Rachel unconsciously tilting her head to allow him more access. There was a slight breeze and paired with the lingering moisture left from his tongue as it slid from one side of her throat the other, goosebumps rose on her skin.

Her hands moved away from his sides, each resting on one of his cheeks and lightly tugging his face up. Their lips meddled together, a groan of breath coming from deep in Puck's throat. Rachel sucked on his bottom lip, moving the tender flesh between her teeth before plunging her tongue inside his mouth. He responded with an equal amount of vigor, moving to settle between her legs while his tongue dueled with hers.

Rachel surprised both of them, her hands quickly moving to his chest and gripping his shirt while flipping their positions. She straddled his legs and continued to kiss him, grinding into him a little more incessantly as the rush of power surged through her. She knew they should stop. They'd been gone for a long time and this trip was supposed to be about his little sister. But, given she _was_ just nominated for a Tony award, Rachel figured she owed it to herself to at least celebrate _a little_.

"You better hope there's a condom in the tree that isn't expired."


	20. In a State of Limbo

**Author's Note:** I want to focus on the positives right away. First, this is on time. Second, look how long it is! Third, well ... read the first half. If that isn't enough to garner some good reviews, then I don't know WHAT is. All the other stuff, well ... come on. Who didn't see it coming?

Huge shout out to everyone reading and reviewing. You guys rock my world and I hope I do at least half as good. Thanks so much and keep it up!

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><p>There was a moment before Puck actually woke up where his brain was aware of what was going on but his body had yet to catch up. Even with his eyes closed, he got a sense of the time and his surroundings. He wondered if it was a learned behavior after so many one night stands; he didn't typically sleep over or let <em>them<em> sleep over, but there were plenty of instances in college where passing out sort of went hand in hand in his sexual conquests. He'd have to mentally navigate his whereabouts and the perfect exit strategy before actually waking up and stumbling out of wherever he'd ended up.

Last night, apparently, he'd ended up back in his old bedroom. The feel of the mattress was still familiar after all these years, the sheets clean but the same as those his mother would use when he was younger. There was a window right above the headboard and the light he could sense coming through the small pane paired with the absence of warmth that would be felt from the sun indicated that it was early in the morning. Further confirmation was the complete lack of noise anywhere else in the house, which meant it wasn't even seven or else his mom would be in the kitchen making her traditional Sunday breakfast.

Growing up, his mother worked two jobs just to support him and Sarah, but she always managed to be home on Sunday mornings – and Friday nights, but that was a different kind of family time. Even though most of the time she had to drag him out of bed, they sat around the table and ate breakfast like a family. She would talk about her jobs and ask them questions about school and their friends, Puck would grunt some answers and humor her with others. He'd play along and ask Sarah what she had planned for the rest of the day, usually some elaborate game she'd made up all by herself and played in the backyard for hours. She was honestly the easiest kid to watch ever, which had been good for Puck because he was the worst babysitter ever. His mom would always call sometime during the night and ask to speak with Sarah before she went to bed and if the little girl didn't come when he called, Puck would immediately say he'd been caught up in his homework and forgot that she'd gone to a friend's house. Even now he was pretty sure his mother knew he wasn't doing his homework, but Sarah _was_ usually playing with another one of the neighbor kids so it wasn't a complete lie.

He could hardly believe his little sister was a college graduate. It made him feel old and sound really uncool, but he still saw the tiny eight-year-old girl begging him to take her to the mall with him when he looked at her. He'd always declined because he was in high school and it wasn't cool to hang out with your little sister – plus he only went to the mall to scam on chicks or loiter around long enough to score some free food. Maybe he owed it to her to at least consider her idea about staying with him for the summer. She'd gotten an art degree from state and would probably have an easier time finding a job in the city than here in Ohio. He wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but Puck was fairly certain that she wasn't sure either. She'd said something about teaching, which maybe Sam could help her out with. Or, if she wanted to go the starving artist route, then there really wasn't any place better than New York.

Puck stirred for the first time since his brain started to awaken, his body immediately stiffening when he realized that he wasn't exactly alone with his thoughts. He pried one eye open, wincing at the light and pulling back just a little so he could see better. The heat he felt against his chest that he thought had been a product of drinking too much turned out to be Rachel, her frame nestled deep into his. His one arm was stuck underneath her neck and pillow while the other was draped over her bare hip. He couldn't quite remember when she'd changed into his old football jersey, but he wasn't exactly complaining, either.

Their alone time by the lake had gotten interrupted on basically every level imaginable. Her phone had started to ring and they'd ignored it. They undressed a little more and she'd gotten up to search the tree trunk for an unexpired condom – to no avail. She then made this pouty face that went straight to his nether regions and he sprung up to search the old truck. Her phone beeped with a text message and almost drowned out her quiet admission that they didn't technically need a condom. He turned to face her with a frown, torn between being her doctor and reassuring her that her condition wasn't definite and being her lover and wanting her so bad that it was physically hurting him. Then his phone rang _and_ her phone rang and they looked at each other solemnly and gave up. He talked to his mom on the way back, assuring her they'd be back in time for Sarah's toast, and she talked to her fathers briefly about her Tony nod.

Back at the Puckerman abode, they'd polished off another bottle of champagne by the end of the night and even though it wasn't enough to floor Puck, the shots he'd done with his cousins put him in the same inebriated state as Rachel. They'd stumbled to his room around midnight and everything after that was kind of a blur. Rachel was wearing underwear and so was he, though, so it clearly wasn't a good blur. He sort of remembered bringing out his guitar and playing a few things, and if she was wearing his old jersey he liked to think that at least he'd gotten a pretty good show.

"Mmmmm. Noah," she whispered softly, still asleep.

Puck had closed his one eye again but his brain was fully awake now. He hadn't realized it, but the hand of the arm he'd tossed over her hip was running softly over the skin of her abdomen. Her skin was silky smooth and he let his fingers trail higher underneath his old jersey. The slick red fabric hid his intentions, but his hardening erection pressed against her ass did not. She didn't seem to mind, though, pushing herself into him and letting out a quiet whimper. When he reached her breasts, he heard her mouth open slightly, a soft intake of breath followed by another thrust backward wakening them _both_ up a little more.

Half asleep, Rachel wasn't sure if what was going on was a dream or not. Even as she felt herself start to come out of that peaceful limbo stage between sleeping and awake, her eyes remained closed and she had to rely on her other senses to make the determination. His touch certainly felt real, that perfect mix of teasing and greedy causing her nipples to harden. She flushed and shivered at the same time, another unconscious moan escaping from low inside her when he moved his right hand to take over on her chest while the other hand skimmed back down her stomach and then into her panties. His groan washed over her and considering its timbre and proximity to her ear, she knew this wasn't a dream.

"Fuck." She was so wet and he was so hard and he didn't care anymore about anything else. Every single phone could ring, his mother could be sitting in the old desk chair in the room, and his old sex education teacher could storm in explaining the hazards of unprotected sex. He had to be inside her.

"Noah," she whispered, moving one of her hands that had been curtly resting under her cheek to slide between their bodies, stroking him over his boxers. He cursed softly again, his nose trailing over her bare shoulder and into the crook of her neck. He could smell the smoke from last night's bonfire in her hair, but her skin still smelled of strawberries and honey and his tongue ran up the nape of her neck in curiosity. She tasted like nothing other than Rachel and it was enough to drive him crazy, his hand abruptly stopping its methodical assault on her clit to remove her underwear.

Rachel followed his lead and pushed down his boxers with the hand that had been teasing him, her other arm snaking back behind her head and curling around his neck. She tilted her head up and over while pulling him closer, mewling at the way his tongue probed her pulse point. Her nipped at the column of her throat, using his tongue to numb the pain she would have felt if she wasn't so utterly lost in the feel of him sliding into her. She felt his guttural breath wisp across the lingering moisture on her neck, and she shivered again before lifting her left leg over his hip and resting her foot back behind his thigh.

Puck moved his hand off her hip back to her center, teasing her clit once again as he pumped inside her. Rachel's hand came to rest on top of his, forcing it away from the area and to her lower abdomen. Their fingers intertwined and equally used the area as leverage, Puck rocking his hips a little harder while Rachel pushed back into him a little more incessantly. Her body tilted into him even more so half of her was on top of him while the other half still rested on its side, Rachel's head equally bent in a desperate search for his lips.

Equipped with an odd sixth sense when it came to her and her needs, Puck's lips acted as two tiny honing devices, finding her mouth in an instant. Her lips parted quickly and he thrust his tongue inside, neither of them caring about morning breath at this point. They'd long past the point of unfamiliarity – probably sometime during that first doctor's appointment – and a little bad breath wasn't going to stop the familiar fire-burning feeling scorching through each of their bodies. Usually it started slow, with a quiet build up that spread throughout their limbs and core until bursting into a million different flames that were only extinguished by the waves of pleasure that rolled through them. This time, though, whether it was because it had been too long since they'd last had sex or whether it was because the whole thing had happened so unconsciously, their orgasms hit them like a freight train. They swallowed each other's groans as their insides exploded, Rachel shaking against him and Puck clinging to her hand like a lifeline.

They continued to kiss for at least two minutes after that initial high, Rachel's body melting into his for a completely different reason. Each plunge of his tongue was tender, intimate, and Rachel responded in kind. When he finally pulled away, his nose nuzzling the crook of her neck and his lips placing delicate kisses on the exposed skin that the baggy jersey wasn't covering, her eyes fluttered open for the first time all morning. She forced her gaze as far back as it would go, her own smile widening when she saw his shit-eating grin and completely satisfied eyes looking back at her.

"Good morning," she whispered lightly, feeling his soft rumble of laughter echo through her.

"Mornin'," he drawled, tightening his hold around her while settling deeper into the mattress, intending to go right back to sleep. She was tiny enough that she managed to spin around in his embrace, his eyes reluctantly opening to come face to face with her. Her gaze wasn't as glassy as it had been last night and the trademark sparkle was back in the brown orbs. She broke out into a bashful smile, leaning forward and pressing soft kisses to his jaw and neck, her lower body moving a little less delicately. She hooked her right leg over his hip and gently rocked into him, Puck's eyes rolling into the back of his head for a moment as he considered his options. Smokin' hot chick he just had fuckin' incredible sex with was lookin' for round two even though they both should get up and get ready so they could eat and then leave for the airport.

Really? Was there any question what his next move would be?

The index finger of his left hand stroked her spine from under the jersey while his right hand brushed away some hair that had fallen across her neck. She was still licking and nibbling on the sensitive skin of his neck, and he countered by assaulting her ear in kind. She shuddered against him when his tongue mimicked his actions from earlier, his lips eventually wrapping around her earlobe to suck lightly before his teeth grasped the tender flesh and tugged. She fidgeted against him and the motion alone was enough to angle their bodies perfectly so he once again slid into her warm center.

If the first time had been good, the second time was beyond amazing. While everything had been unconscious before – like it was an innate behavior – this time they were completely aware of what was going on. Their heads rested on the same pillow, both their eyes open and staring longingly into the others' as their hips moved together in perfect rhythm. Rachel's arms wrapped around his neck and she struggled to keep her eyes focused on him as she tumbled over the edge after only a couple of minutes. Puck leaned forward and captured her lips, pivoting into her with a little more abandon now that her needs had already been met. The slow, steady pace became rushed and urgent, the explosion he felt earlier unmatched by the implosion that followed after Rachel bit his bottom lip in ecstasy, crashing around him again.

His left hand stayed pressed into her lower back, securing her against him even though her arms' grip around his neck was tight enough that he knew she had no intention of moving. Maybe it was a coward's way out, but after everything that had transpired this morning – and basically the entire weekend – paired with the security of feeling her surround him in every way possible but her face buried deep in the crook of his neck, he couldn't think of a better scenario. This wasn't exactly easy for him.

"I like you."

Rachel's heart thundered in her chest and she knew it had nothing to do with her system trying desperately to regulate itself. The three words weren't exactly the ones every girl dreamt of hearing, but the way he'd said them meant more to her than the words anyway. And considering the man who'd said them, she wasn't going to be picky. Offhandedly she wondered if he'd _ever_ said the other three words (or rather just the other _one_ word) and decided probably not. Even this had seemed difficult for him, his voice hoarse and quiet, almost embarrassed. She liked that she was possibly the only woman capable of coaxing such a confession from him, and even though her response could have been something stronger, she decided it would be best to continue to go with the flow.

"I like you, too," she whispered, pulling back just a little to graze her lips across his for a moment. She leaned back a little further, looking at him through her thick eyelashes. His gaze was soft and he actually looked somewhat relieved, and she would have called him on it if the sound of pots and pans banging together hadn't wafted into the room. Their fantasy land had officially been invaded, reality setting back in when not long after the sounds from the kitchen started did they also hear Sarah yelling downstairs at her mother. Considering the holiday, Puck's little sister felt their mother shouldn't be the one making breakfast. Sarah, however, couldn't cook to save her life, and Puck therefore was urged downstairs while Rachel went to shower.

By the time she was done and came down to takeover for Puck – who had done nothing except try to convince his mom that they should go out to eat - he'd left the three women alone together and sped up his morning routine after considering the consequences of that decision. When he came back downstairs, his mother sitting at the dining room table waiting impatiently as the two other women waited on her, a weird feeling shot through him. It was a mix of the one he felt earlier this morning with Rachel and one he usually felt right before he told a girl that he'd call her even though he never meant it.

"Noah!" His mother beamed at him. "Rachel has prepared an elegant breakfast for all of us. Isn't that wonderful? Did you know she could cook so well?"

His eyes drifted to where Rachel was standing in front of the stove and he considered his mother's question. The only time he'd seen her in the kitchen was a late night where the only thing she'd done was heat up some honey, but fuck if that hadn't been delicious. Plus, he somewhat remembered her saying something about trying to excel at everything she did and he was fairly certain she wasn't being facetious. After all, of all the things he'd seen, she was pretty fucking amazing at all of them.

"Any bacon in that frying pan?"

She turned around and faced his teasing grin with one of her own. "I believe you are enough of a pig for all of us, _sweetie_."

He chuckled at her quick wit, bowing his head and sitting in the chair next to his mother. She went through her usual complaints about his trip being far too short and how it was especially harsh for him to leave _on_ Mother's Day. But then Rachel came in with breakfast and somehow steered the conversation to safer territory, the three girls chattering away about everything from what Sarah would miss most about college to what Leah had planned for the upcoming summer. It was only after his mom started drilling her about the musical did the secret of her Tony nomination come out, and by the time they'd finished cleaning up breakfast and he'd packed their stuff into his mom's car, Leah had an open-ended invite to see the show and all the details on when the awards show would be on television.

Elliot stopped by just as Rachel and Puck were leaving, bidding them farewell before taking Sarah out to lunch as he promised last night. Puck had told his little sister that he'd consider letting her stay with him only if she agreed to not be a pain in the ass _and_ was actually planning on using her degree in New York. Mrs. Puckerman had said the vision of Sarah jumping into Puck's arms in excitement had been enough of a gift for Mother's Day even if Puck had quickly peeled the young woman off and called her a spaz while doing so.

By the time Leah pulled into the departure lane at the airport, she was in tears. But when she stepped out of the car instead of staying inside the vehicle like all the signs indicated, she didn't reach out for her son but instead wrapped her arms around Rachel. The petrified look from the beginning of the weekend was no longer present on Rachel's face, her arms holding the older woman just as tightly even if she managed not to cry.

"I'm so glad I was able to meet you, dear." Leah pulled back, wiping below her eyes and giving Rachel a watery smile. "I see the joy you bring to my son's life and I cannot thank you enough. I hope I'll see you again soon and please know that you can call me or visit whenever you want!"

She crushed Rachel into another strong hug and Puck watched with a frown as that feeling from before breakfast hit him again, but stronger this time. Crazy or not, his mother's opinion meant a lot to him and he was glad that she liked Rachel, but he also didn't want that to matter. He clenched his eyes and noted the beginnings of a headache start to build under his temples. He felt like his brain was being split in half, one side devoted to one set of thoughts while the other side was thinking the exact opposite. The dueling forces carried on through their wait in the security line and then the hour delay until they were able to board the plane back to New York.

Rachel was busy catching up on text messages from people who'd wanted to congratulate her on her nomination, and it wasn't until the stewardess made her put away her phone did she finally stop and notice Puck was staring at her. His expression was unreadable but nothing like it had been this morning and it caught her off guard. He looked tired and a million miles away, and she found her hand reaching up to their shared armrest to caress his in an attempt to bring him comfort.

"I'm excited to go back home, but I don't want the weekend to end." She bit her lip, tilting her head back but continuing to look at him. "Does that make any sense?"

Puck flicked his gaze from her eyes down to their hands, that mixed feeling becoming so powerful that all he could do was nod his head. He thought back and considered the weekend, examining every last memory in an attempt to figure out what was triggering his sudden split personality. As soon as the seatbelt light disappeared, Puck shot up and made his way into the restroom. He forced the door shut and then placed his hands on either side of the makeshift sink in the tiny space. His head was sagged and he took a few comforting breaths before slowly lifting his head up and staring at his reflection.

Rachel was right. Everything about this weekend had been perfect in one way or another, topped off this morning by what he now could only admit was the two of them making love - twice. His grip on the fake sink grew tighter and he growled at his reflection. How could he have gone from having mile-high club sex two days ago with his fuck buddy to being in love and basically fucking married? Like, seriously? That shit wasn't going down. He didn't want to be married. He didn't want to be in love. Looking at Mike and especially Sam … he didn't want that life.

Puck turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face, letting it drip down into the sink as he lifted his head back up and stared at his reflection. He swore he could see two different expressions looking back at him depending on which eye he focused on, and he recognized the one and not the other. The other scared him and he willed it away. The mixture of feelings that had been combating inside his brain dulled, and one – the familiar one - ultimately claimed victory. His expression hardened and he nodded his head to himself.

It was finally time to bail.


	21. Mind Over Matter

**Author's Note:** WOW! You guys ... wow. The response to last chapter was incredible and I cannot thank you enough. Just ... wow.

This chapter might not be what some of you expected, and might not be what some of you want, but I promise there is a plan and it is working out painfully so (just like you all want, which is kind of hilarious if not crazy). There's still a lot of story left, and I hope y'all stick around to read it be told. Thanks again and please let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer:** There is a song referenced and used at the end of the chapter. I don't want to be sued, so no infringement is intended, but I also don't want to say the title just in case. if you don't know it, then I think you might have entered the wrong fandom link anyway. :)

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><p>Rachel fiddled with the packet of Splenda in her hand, shaking the fake sugar granules to the bottom. She mindlessly ripped the top of the package open, staring inside the small hole for a brief moment before dumping the contents into her mug of hot tea. She watched the tiny fragments float for a few moments and then sink, Rachel slowly lifting her spoon from inside her napkin and inserting it into the warm liquid. She swirled the silverware around the mug, stirring up the granules until they completely dissipated, then she added a healthy squirt of honey from the plastic bear in the caddy and repeated the circular motion.<p>

Kurt watched the whole thing from just three feet away, the petite brunette not even noticing her best friend's presence. Typically Rachel did at least four things at once, so to see her so robotic was kind of frightening. In fact, it was absolutely terrifying since it had only gotten worse over the week. As each day passed clearly a little more hope died and Kurt wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he knew he needed to at least _try _to help.

"Hey, Broadway," he greeted with fake enthusiasm, unsurprised when she smiled back at him brightly. She was, after all, a terrific actress. No one else other than Mercedes was particularly concerned with her behavior, but he knew her better than most. "What's shaking?"

"My tea!" She joked lamely, earning a soft chuckle from him as he slid into the booth seat across from her. The waitress came and took both of their orders, and then there was an awkward silence that sat between them in the minute or so that followed. Rachel was usually so good at small talk, or at least filling up quiet time, but Kurt wasn't just any other person. He knew her, and he knew the situation.

Last Sunday, Rachel had come home feeling like she was on top of the world. Puck and her parted ways at the airport after he'd said he had to stop by the office, and Rachel used the night to catch up on all her laundry and household chores. The next day, she caught up with Kurt and Mercedes and she told them all about the trip, sparing little detail given their shocked expressions at one point. They spent the entire rest of their day off talking about the Tony nominations, as in addition to Rachel's bid the musical itself also had a couple of potential awards. Kurt was, of course, worried about what to wear – and more specifically what _Rachel_ would wear – and Mercedes only enabled him by demanding his assistance picking out something show stopping for her. She was, apparently, on the prowl.

The entire day had flown by and Rachel hadn't even noticed that Puck didn't call or text even though she knew it was his day off, too. The next day, between the matinee show and the night show, she barely had time to breathe. Everyone wanted to talk to her about her plans for the awards show, and she spent a lot of time with Erin discussing the understudy's performances while Rachel was away. Wednesday and Thursday went by in the typical fast-paced manner, and Friday was really the first time Rachel found herself checking her phone almost every free second.

Now, late Saturday morning, she felt the weight of his absence heavy on her shoulders - trying to keep her posture square but feeling them slump anyway. She'd gone a week without talking to him before – two, even – but something felt different about this time. Before it was about busy schedules or poor timing. Then they'd pushed all that aside and went for it anyway and now … well now there were no excuses.

"Why hasn't he called?" She lamented finally, bowing her head in shame. She hated how small and wounded she sounded, but Kurt was her best friend. She was safe from ridicule when he was around. "Or texted?"

"He's probably just busy," he offered.

"Too busy to text?" She demanded, seeing Kurt flinch. She wasn't sure if it was because of the topic or because of her harsh tone, but she sadly guessed the former. "Say it." She lifted her eyes off her mug, pleading with him. "Please, just … say it."

Kurt sighed, not breaking her gaze no matter how hard he wanted to. He was torn between wanting to play his usual role as cheerleader and facing the facts. She looked almost broken in front of him and that outweighed everything else that used to feel so innate. He couldn't make her feel better by telling her everything would work out. She'd see right through him because he didn't believe it. After everything Rachel had told him about Puck and everything that happened, Kurt knew what was happening and even though he _really_ didn't want to say it out loud, maybe that's what he needed to do. Maybe the only way Rachel would feel better was if the truth was out in the open and she could deal with it.

"Maybe," he began softly, still contemplating figuratively turning back, "he's making the choice for you."

Rachel's gaze drooped much like almost her entire body, the petite brunette sinking into herself. She took a slow sip of her tea, using both of her hands to hold the mug. She felt the warmth on her hands but nowhere else. Inside, she felt numb. Hollow. And really, really, _really_ stupid.

"It doesn't make any sense, Kurt," she whined softly, not brave enough to look up as she spoke.

Best friend or not, even she knew it would be hard for him not to want to hit her during this. It was the classic moment in any post heartbreak scene of a movie. He'd tell her to dust herself off and then _Good Riddance_ by Green Day would magically come over the speakers in the small café. They'd break out in an elaborate song and dance, random patrons joining in with flawless moves. By the time the whole routine was done, Kurt and Rachel would have their arms around each other and she'd be smiling brightly, thinking, _Puck who?_

"Everything about last weekend was perfect," she explained again, leaving the fantasy land in her head and focusing on the cold, bitter facts of reality. "_Nothing_ was casual, and it certainly wasn't _my_ doing!" There was force in her words that had been lost before, and it actually made Kurt smile; there was his Rachel. "I didn't invite myself, I didn't …"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, not wanting her to get too worked up. "You went on the trip to see if what you and Puck had was real and … given the week lack of conversation, I'd say you got your answer." She frowned deeper. "_Now_, I say we have our brunch and then go do our show."

As if on cue, their food arrived. The waitress looked at Rachel and then tossed a concerned glance at Kurt. This was their usual spot and clearly Rachel's attitude was well known enough that her current mood was making the wait staff uneasy. Get in line, lady.

"You're up for a Tony, after all, and you have adoring fans waiting to hear from you," he continued, knowing Rachel was getting inside her head again. "Then, after the second show, come out with Blaine and Finn and I."

Rachel knitted her eyebrows together, taking the allotted time to chew her bite of salad to think about his offer. Going out was certainly a better alternative than staying home staring at her phone while analyzing the events of last weekend over and over, but she wasn't sure she was ready to give up entirely. She knew she _should_, and Kurt obviously agreed, but she still couldn't fathom how something so right could now be ... wrong.

"I think my dads are right," she decided. "I'm a magnet for emotionally unavailable men. And … going out tonight would be fun but will not help that situation."

"I'm assuming you are talking about Finn and not Blaine?"

She rolled her eyes, nodding her head softly. She was actually talking about every guy she's ever had feelings for. Her fathers were right in that she'd grown attached to some men who turned out to be gay, and there was Jesse who was too dedicated to his career to care for her on the level she demanded. Puck was the clearest example, though, as he'd made his intentions clear from the very beginning, which was the part that was really eating her up inside. She _knew_ he wasn't ready for anything serious, and yet things between them slowly started to shift – whether they were ready or not. And then, this weekend, it felt like it had all magically come together when, apparently, it hadn't.

"Much like you, Diva, he sort of had a falling out with his other suitor. Happened about a week before your trip." Kurt shrugged, not focusing too much on why he hadn't told her before and hoping she wasn't either. "He's actually looking for work at a different school next year. _So_ _much drama_."

"It's suitress." He stared at her blankly. "The female equivalent of suitor is suitress. The word isn't interchangeable."

It was his turn to frown, doing such with more disdain than she had been earlier. "If your intention is to talk grammar, then I don't think Finn's the right guy for you, either."

Rachel nodded in understanding, hearing his icy tone. "I'd love to join you," she answered hesitantly, still reluctant but willing to keep an open mind. She certainly couldn't fault Finn for his indiscretions with the woman if there had been any considering her own situation with Puck hadn't been exactly innocent. But now they were both, it appeared, single and available (emotionally and otherwise), and maybe a night out without all the other pins in the air would be just what Rachel needed.

At the very least, it presented her with the opportunity to obsess about something else for the rest of the day. Her and Kurt finished their brunch and then headed to the theater right on schedule. They went through both shows without a hitch and then they walked together to Social to meet Blaine and Finn. She wasn't going to lie and say she didn't think of Puck at all the rest of the day – the musical in itself was a constant reminder of the transformation she thought he'd been making - but she found that if she kept herself busy and focused on other things, those thoughts were at least muted.

"Hey!" Finn greeted them eagerly, his eyes running over Rachel's frame.

She had changed into a short black shirt and a tight tank top again thanks to the sweltering weather, and she found some satisfaction in the idea that Puck wasn't the only one who appreciated the outfit selection. Actually, if she recalled, that had been his problem with it. She was pretty sure he'd call Finn a prick, too, but she didn't agree. In khaki shorts and a vintage AC/DC T-shit, he was a welcome distraction.

"I haven't seen you in forever." He let his patent dopey smile slip, his gaze finally coming back to meet hers. "Binoculars are in the shop." Rachel giggled appreciatively, sliding in to the spot next to Finn as Kurt took the spot by Blaine. "We just got beer coming, but what's that pink drink you get?"

Rachel blushed and looked to Blaine, who rolled his eyes. "She won't say it."

"What?"

"She thinks it is inappropriate."

He quirked an eyebrow up, clearly _more_ curious now. "How do you order a drink without saying it?"

Rachel briefly thought back to the night she'd gone to the bar with Puck and met Sam and Mike - somehow he'd just known – and then shook those thoughts away. "Just the way any typical girl gets a free drink."

"Typical girls don't get free drinks," Kurt pointed out. "_Hot_ girls do."

She blushed, her smile faltering as the word _beautiful_ echoed in her mind.

"Or girls who were nominated for a Tony," Blaine added, nudging Kurt's side so he would get up and Blaine could move. "That's amazing, Rach. Really."

"Thank you," she answered humbly, watching as he walked away to presumably get her drink. Finn and Kurt were discussing the merits of living in New York in comparison to Ohio, stating that the closest they got to seeing a celebrity in their hometown had been through tinted windows when some pop princess' tour bus broke down on its way to Cleveland. Rachel wanted to contribute the conversation, but her mind replayed the word _celebrity_ over and over again until she was breathless with memories from a different small town in Ohio.

"I made it a double," Blaine announced, his face giving away a bit of his concern. While she had asked Kurt not to tell Blaine everything about her relationship with Puck, he'd clearly told his partner a few things in regards to its sudden downward spiral. Blaine and her were close enough that she didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though. She smiled gratefully, taking a healthy sip before turning her attention to Finn, who had scooted closer to inspect her drink.

"Sex on the beach?"

A bemused smile crossed her face. It had been a long time since she'd hung out with Finn, the last time she'd seen him being their impromptu meeting when she was having lunch with Mercedes. She'd been so focused and figuring things out with Puck that she'd forgotten how adorable Finn could be. And it was sort of refreshing how easy he was to read, especially after how terribly she'd interpreted _other's_ feelings.

"A blowjob comes in a shot glass," he remarked unabashedly.

"That's probably a health code violation," Blaine joked.

Rachel managed not to blush, too busy shaking her head in contempt. "Blaine … you're applying to be a father. Don't you think it's time to grow up just a little?"

"Uncle Finny started it!"

The group laughed, partially at Blaine's lame comeback and partially at Finn's expense. Kurt eventually put his brother out of his misery, practically yelling Rachel's drink order. It was meant to embarrass her, but all it did was cause two more full glasses to show up at their table, the argument about typical girls and hot girls stirred up again. Rachel finally requested that Finn explain his sneaky hot remark, and after a bit of arguing about confidentiality and bro code, he'd told her exactly what he meant. She found herself blushing at the nervous way he got through the confession, playfully pushing at him when he'd finished – her hands lingering a little longer than they had to.

Several drinks later, everyone was beyond relaxed and Kurt had actually convinced Rachel to get up on stage. Finn didn't need as much convincing, but rather just demanded executive approval on Kurt's song selection, which was why they were both up front arguing over the book of CDs while Rachel was sitting at the corner booth with Blaine. He'd wanted to put bets on which AC/DC song it would be, but Rachel just rolled her eyes and hoped Kurt wouldn't do that to her.

"I think I might need one more drink before getting up there."

"Just put it on my tab."

Rachel stumbled out of the seat and she knew Blaine assumed it was because of her previous drinks and not because of his words. They sloshed around in her head along with the alcohol and she couldn't decide if the vodka was making it worse or not. She leaned her back against the bar top and it felt too much like the hard surface of his apartment door that instead of steadying her it made her feel even woozier.

"Diva!" Kurt shouted over the speakers. "We found one!"

She nodded, plastering on a smile and making her way toward the stage. Kurt was ushering Blaine to the stage, too, which meant the duet had turned into a group number. She peered down at the booklet and saw the artist was Journey, which definitely fit Finn's profile but wasn't exactly what she imagined Kurt would pick. Much like her, he tended to veer toward a more musical-friendly catalogue, but Finn likely nixed all those choices.

"We're singing backup," Kurt clarified as if hearing her unasked question. "This is a duet version, so Rachel you'll be the girl part and …"

"And I'll be the boy," Finn responded dryly, tossing Rachel a microphone with a wink. She grinned widely at him and the resulting teasing between the brothers. Blaine managed to get Kurt back on track, claiming they had an audience waiting. Kurt huffed and puffed for a few more seconds before finally giving in. He got into position on the side of the stage with Blaine, tossing Rachel one of his trademark looks that she could tell meant the song choice wasn't by accident.

The crowd in the bar instantly knew the song as soon as Kurt and Blaine started in on the melody. Like some invisible gravitational pull, people surrounded the stage, erupting in cheers when Finn took the first verse. Then Rachel let her big voice overpower her small body, shocking every single person in the bar. The applause carried into the guitar solo and the next two verses before they quieted to hear Finn and Rachel blend their voices for the chorus. Kurt watched the two dance around each other, Rachel really losing herself in the song when everyone started singing along. They all felt a little bit like rock stars right then, Finn clearly so when he played some heavy air guitar while Kurt and Rachel shared a knowing look before the final verses.

_Don't stop believing_

_Hold on to that feeling_

_Streelight, people_

_Don't stop believing_

_Hold on to that feeling_

_Streelight, people_

_Don't stop_

All four of them bowed and accepted the eruption of applause in their own special way before making it back to their table in the corner. Several people came up to them and remarked on how awesome they'd performed, and the owner of the bar actually brought over a pitcher of beer and one Pink Panty Pulldown for Rachel in gratitude of keeping the place lively. The group of friends laughed and joked about going on tour together, ultimately ending the discussion when they couldn't agree on a name that – according to Finn – wasn't gay or a general costume theme that – according to Kurt – was _ever_ in season.

"It was so much easier in high school when all you wore was your football jersey and jeans."

Rachel smiled at Kurt's observation and Finn's quick rebuttal, but she felt her throat close and her heart stop as she considered the words football and jersey together in the same sentence. She'd been having so much fun before and now it was like she was back to square one, and frankly it wasn't fair. She was sick of _everything_ coming back to him when, _obviously_, he wasn't going through the same anguish. And while she wasn't strong enough to will away the memories and simply had to learn to live with those thoughts circling around in her head, she also didn't have to succumb to them entirely.

"Hey, Finn," she began smoothly, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and glancing at him with a soft smile. "I'm not sure if you're still interested, but I was wondering if you still wanted to … go out on that date."

Finn grinned from ear to ear, nodding his head as he answered, "Totally."


	22. Put Your Game Face On

**Author's Note:** I had a bit of technical difficultly and couldn't get this chapter updated until right now. I think it's one that a lot of people have been waiting for, so sorry about the delay. As always, I want to give a major shout out to everyone reading and reviewing. Your support for this story has been incredible and continues to amaze me.

Way back when I said this story was going to be 30 chapters plus an epilogue and the crazy thing is I have no idea where that number came from. In my outline, it was very clearly only supposed to be 25, but I have done some reworking because I feel there is some more story to tell. That being said, this is looking like it will shape up to be 29 chapters and an epilogue. So, hang on. This ride isn't quite over just yet. :)

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><p>The familiar organ chords for <em>Take Me Out to the Ballgame<em> echoed through the stadium, Puck and Sam standing along with the rest of the crowd. They stretched their limbs but refused to sing along, eventually taking their seats again. Puck could afford tickets closer to the field, but he'd always liked sitting up high more. It was a better view in his opinion, and Sam didn't really care either way. He was actually happy about their position because the beer vendor didn't come up to the upper deck as frequently as the seats in the lower section, and now that it was the middle of the seventh inning, the ballpark would stop selling alcohol entirely. That meant Puck had about an hour to sober up enough that he would, Sam hoped, be able to walk down the stairs without any assistance.

The sun was just about set, and employees selling glow sticks replaced the drink vendors. Kids twirled their new toys, artificially energized by cotton candy, big gulp sodas, and ice cream served in small, plastic helmets. The parents looked exhausted and uninterested in everything going on around them, and oddly enough Sam felt a pang of guilt that he was at the game with Puck and not home with his family.

"It's been a long time since it's been just us," he remarked randomly, turning his attention back to Puck. "It sort of feels like college all over again."

Puck kept his gaze forward, his vision hazy but his mind unfortunately crystal clear. He wasn't remembering college, though, but rather a time that felt like high school. Her soft giggle and their quiet whispers while his mom slept in the next bed over. Football jerseys and Sunday breakfast at home. Playful teasing and hiding away at his old spot. Every memory hit him at once and over and over and he actually closed his eyes and groaned when a wave of nausea rolled through him. The last beer had gotten warm as it rested in the cup holder on the seat in front of them and he shouldn't have drunk it.

"So that was like … the hundredth time you've zoned out tonight." Sam narrowed his eyes on his friend. "I can't even count all the times you've done it in the past two weeks, so why don't you just tell me what the hell happened with Rachel?"

Hearing her name caused another wave of sickness, but Puck fought through it. "Nothin'." Sam scoffed and Puck made sure to add some extra force into his words. "It was just time to move on."

Sam considered his words, taking into account how he'd said them. Puck could fake ambivalence better than most, but Sam had known him too long to fall for it. He always upped the masculine demeanor when something was really bothering him, and there wasn't really anything more macho than the fact that Puck was clearly trying to drink himself to death. But, because they were guys and Puck was a _guy's guy_, Sam could only guess what the real problem was. Mike didn't know, and he wasn't sure but he figured Santana was in the dark as well.

"It's weird," he began, deciding that maybe if he opened up a little then Puck might reciprocate. "I decided the same thing with Santana all those years ago, and again with Quinn recently with completely different results."

Puck slowly turned his head toward his friend, trying to express just how little he cared. The blonde was equally apathetic, though. He was a lot like Rachel in how he didn't necessarily need anyone to listen for him to talk. She demanded attention in a different way, which was the element the surfer-wannabe was missing. He made up for it with persistence, though.

"Back then, with Santana, I just knew it was never going to work out."

"S'cause she likes chicks."

"We just weren't right for each other," Sam clarified, not deterred by Puck's attempt to distract him. "And instead of hurting each other anymore by dragging it out, we knew it was time to move on. But … with Quinn … I had to move on from what she did and not her, ya know?"

Puck looked at his friend blankly, hopefully showcasing that his answer was a big, fat no. There weren't many people around them because of their seats and because it was a Monday and a school night at that, but Puck still didn't want _anyone_ overhearing this conversation. Sam sounded like he was seconds away from blubbering on his shoulder like a baby, which wasn't kosher ever and certainly not at a baseball game. The dude hadn't even taken a sip of beer all night, so there was really no excuse for his sudden urge to share.

"I'm still pissed about the whole thing and want to punch Finn every time I see him at school …"

"His name is Finn?" Puck chuckled. "Quinn and Finn?" He laughed harder. "I dunno. Maybe I was wrong about this; sounds like they were meant for each other."

"Fuck you, man," Sam growled, shoving Puck a little. "Quinn's my _wife_. And she loves me, but … she just got scared."

Puck rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced. She wasn't as good as Rachel, but Quinn knew how to play a lot of different roles. She'd been the bitchy cheerleader, the chastity princess, the adoring mother, and apparently a pretty good temptress. It didn't surprise him that Quinn had strayed from her marriage, and it didn't surprise him that she wanted to take it all back. It _would_, however, surprise him if it never happened again.

"People make mistakes. I've certainly made plenty."

"Like that sex change operation, which clearly didn't take, Samantha."

"I almost called Santana." Sam knew that would get Puck's attention. "I almost threw it all away and …" He shook his head, still a little upset with himself. "Quinn and I still have a lot to work through, but it's worth it to put in that work. I … it sucks that it took this to put us on the same page, but we'll come out stronger in the end."

"If you say so."

"I had wasted so much time and effort in college with Santana, finally letting her go because she wasn't going to change, that I forgot people _do _change. Quinn and I have changed so much since we first started dating, and … I took that for granted."

"Quinn should be a fuckin' attorney." Puck shook his head. "She's got you thinkin' her fuckin' around was a _good_ thing. Or, shit, _your_ fault."

"It's no one's fault, Puck." Sam was frustrated, obviously, but less at Puck's insults and more in his inability to make the connection. It wasn't about Sam or Quinn or marriage or any of that. It was about opening yourself up to new possibilities. It was about letting your guard down. It was about Rachel, because even if he didn't know all the details, Sam did know enough to know what was going on. "We can't be the same people we were ten years ago."

Puck scoffed, understanding what point Sam was trying to make but unwilling to accept the notion that Puck _hadn't_ changed. He was so far from the person he used to be that the young version of himself was almost unrecognizable. He turned his entire life around after high school. He got a prestigious job, volunteered at a Jewish youth center, and hadn't been in the inside of a police station in _years_. Just because he didn't want to chain himself down to one chick he was considered a delinquent and it wasn't fair.

"And you can sit there and brood over the fact that you are destined to be a ladies' man forever and whatever, but I gotta tell ya that you've already changed." Sam grinned wickedly. "It's really just sad watching you try to cover it up, so I figured I'd let you know."

"You don't know shit."

"I know you know what I'm talking about, which is all that matters." Puck wanted to punch the giant, smug smile from Sam's stupid face. "She's in your head and she's not going to go away just because you're scared."

"I ain't scared of shit!" Puck roared, his eyes closing tightly when another flashback coursed through the front of his mind. He'd said the same thing to Rachel that night he'd taken her to Bar Nine. She had been just as convinced as Sam.

"So what happened?" Sam questioned again, gentler but still more like a command. "And don't bother tellin' me it wasn't you because I talked to her and ..."

"You …" Puck shook his head a bit, trying to clear away some of the cobwebs. He'd had enough to drink, so he could have been hallucinating. "You talked to her? To Rachel?"

He didn't want to care. He wanted her name and _her_ just be another girl or mutual acquaintance. But when Sam just nodded and got up, Puck needed to know more. He wanted to know why the hell they were talking. He wanted to know what she sounded like, what she said. He wanted to know what she was doing or how she was. He wanted to know everything, but couldn't bring himself to ask. Instead, since the last out was made on the field, Puck simply followed Sam out of the stadium and to the blonde's car while his mind wandered aimlessly.

Puck had hoped after two weeks those two dueling forces would have stopped, but their fighting just got worse. The side of him that Puck didn't recognize was acting out, trying to make a name for itself in the way it refused to be ignored. He couldn't out drink it, out work it, or out flirt it. All of those just made it worse, made it rebel harder. He thought if he ended it he could just go back to how things were before. But each passing day, every minute that went by where he didn't see her or talk to her, a piece of him died. And it wasn't just that unfamiliar side. It was all of him. After two weeks he was struggling to just make it through the day. People at work were starting to notice, and clearly his friends were worried. And the harder he tried to act like nothing had changed, the easier it was to see that _everything_ had changed.

"Can I say somethin' and you not think I'm a dick?"

"It would be a first," Sam responded quickly, smirking at his friend from the driver side as the traffic finally started to move. He leaned forward while merging onto the main stretch of road, quieting the radio that had been keeping him occupied during Puck's long introspection.

"I don't want your life."

"Wow," he coughed. "Thanks for the warning."

Puck rested his head against the back cushion of the passenger seat, his eyes closing in response to the quick motion of the car even though the conversation had done a pretty good job at sobering him. "I just … maybe you're right; maybe I don't know who I am anymore but … it's not … you. _That's_ not me."

"We aren't expecting you to change who you _are_, Puck," Sam reasoned calmly. "You aren't the picket fence-livin', PTA-going kind of guy." Puck groaned in agreement and Sam couldn't help but laugh. "But … eventually you'll have to accept the fact that who you are _has_ changed."

"I shouldn't change but I have changed? That doesn't make any fuckin' sense!"

"You hooked up with Rachel expecting for it to be a one time thing, yea?" Puck nodded. "Sometimes change isn't always a bad thing."

Puck opened his eyes and surveyed his friend, taking in the honest expression. If it weren't Sam, Puck might have been able to work up some anger. The comment sounded almost patronizing and Puck was barely holding it together as it was. But, because he'd known the guy since he was eighteen, Puck knew he had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Especially because he was right.

Rachel never demanded that Puck change. She certainly used some feminine wiles to change some decisions, but she never expected him to do anything differently. He was the one who'd gone to her play after that first time, he was the one who asked her to go back home with him. At every turn, she'd been perfectly content waiting for him to come around, and hadn't done anything to trigger his heartfelt confession or the resulting panic attack. Even in the past two weeks, when he was sure there was going to be an epic blowout between them after he'd so ungracefully fallen off the face of the planet, nothing.

The fact that she hadn't called or even texted him kept him up at night. In the beginning, he thought maybe it was because she was feeling the same way. Rachel had a busy life and clearly didn't allow for many distractions. With the Tony nomination Puck would bet her life just catapulted to downright chaotic, and he was comforted by the fact that maybe she'd just similarly decided they'd had a good run but it had to end. Then Friday came along and he itched to talk to her. That night he wondered if she was resisting the same urge, and he almost texted her to find out but instead ended up trying to hook up with random girls. It didn't work, and whether it was because he wasn't in the mood or because he looked like a car ran over him he wasn't sure.

The next week passed in much the same way, with his head only half into his work during the day and then entirely out of his body at night. He spent much of his free time in a drunken stupor, a privilege that he knew would be revoked as soon as his sister came to stay with him next week. She had no tolerance for him when he was drunk, mostly because he was – her words – a verbally abusive sloth. Plus his mom was coming and even though the alcohol would numb the pain when she started beating the shit out of him for losing Rachel, in the end it would just make things worse.

Then again, how much worse could things get?

"Take a left," Puck said suddenly, sitting up in his seat, his eyes wide. "Now. Turn left now!"

"Wha … where the hell are we going?" Sam looked down at the clock. "I got school tomorrow and it's my day to get the kids ready. I'm not gonna be your fucking chauffeur."

"It's just a couple of blocks. She lives on 50th." Puck fidgeted impatiently when Sam stopped at the light, forcing his seatbelt off and grabbing the handle just after Sam locked the door. "What the hell?"

"I just … maybe this isn't the best idea."

"You're kiddin', right? After all the girl talk tonight and all the shit you and Mike give me _every_ time we hang out, you're gonna put the brakes on this?"

"You're drunk." Puck scoffed, trying to figure out how to unlock the door manually. "It's getting late."

"It's barely 10, grandpa." Puck growled, punching the door. "How do you open this fuckin' thing?"

"It's got child locks, dude." Sam rolled his eyes, pulling up in front of Rachel's apartment. "I want you to be happy, but I also want you to be prepared." Puck scrambled out of the car as soon as Sam hit the unlock button. "She might not care what you have to say."

Puck slammed the passenger door, walking into the apartment building and nodding charmingly at the doorman. Luckily for Puck it was the same guy he'd seen before and that was apparently enough for the older gentleman to assume Puck wasn't going to storm the apartments and kill anyone. He hit the up button on the elevator and looked up, noting the device was currently on floor twelve. He watched the small numbers light up for each new level, biting the inside of his cheek when the stupid thing seemed to stop at every floor. Hovering between eight and seven for far too long, Puck gave up and pushed into the stairwell.

Fueled by adrenaline and a heightened blood alcohol level, Puck somehow managed to make it up all twenty-four floors without passing out. He was beyond winded when he knocked on her door, and he wasn't sure if it was from the running or the crazy circulation of thoughts. Using the side of his fist instead of his knuckles, Puck knocked again a little louder this time. Impatiently he rested each of his hands on the frame of her door to hold himself up, sagging his head while he kept trying to catch his breath.

Rachel swung the door open and gasped almost instantly, closing the door a bit as her footing faltered. She rested against the sidewall, clutching the door handle and keeping the door only open enough that Puck could see a few inches of the wall and not even all of her. What he did see, though, he liked. Her hair was pulled up and he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen it like that, and she was wearing a simple black dress that hugged her in all the right places. His eyes drifted over her toned, tanned legs down to her bare feet.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, breathless no matter how hard she tried not to be. She wanted to be furious with him, wanted to slam the door in his face, but she couldn't. She was too shocked by his sudden experience and had been waiting two whole weeks for an explanation for his disappearance. She wasn't giving him another chance. She just needed closure.

"I … Sam dropped me off. He didn't want to, but he started it so whatever. I have this crazy fuckin' headache and he says I've changed." Puck was aware that he wasn't making any sense, but he also couldn't seem to control himself. "Look, it was a dick move. I get it. And … this just fuckin' needs to stop because I'm legit exhausted and you look good and …"

"Noah." She stopped his rambling, feeling sorry for him and not wanting to go down the dangerous road he had been about to travel on. "This isn't the best time …"

"Fuck, I miss you. OK?" He lifted his head, staring at her with as much honesty as he could muster to shove pass the embarrassment. "I miss you."

Rachel opened her mouth, no words coming out. She tried again, and then her body turned slightly and the door opened a little more. Puck straightened his posture immediately, his entire body stiff as he took in the extra person. The guy was tall and clean cut, but Puck didn't care about any of that. He only noticed the guy wasn't wearing shoes, and he was alone with Rachel in her apartment.

"Everything cool?"

Rachel nodded. "I just need a few minutes," she explained, smiling softly before moving to the other side of the door, closing it behind her. Puck had moved away a minute or so ago, pacing the hallway like a caged animal. "Like I mentioned, this isn't the best time." She bit her lip, watching him and trying to tell herself that she wasn't committing his appearance to memory. "Maybe we can talk when you aren't quite so inebriated …"

"Who the hell is that guy?"

"It's Kurt's brother," she stated matter-of-factly, knocking the wind out of him. Two weeks and she already went back to the guy she was seeing on the side when they were hanging out, too. "Finn."

If it hadn't been such a distinct name, Puck never would have made the connection. He didn't usually listen to everything Sam said, and he'd been three sheets to the wind by then, too. But because it was _Finn_, Puck made the connection almost instantly. And the only connection he wanted to make now was his fist on pretty boy's face. He was going to beat the shit out of that douchebag for messing around with his boy's wife, and then he was going to kill him for scramming on his … his … his _Rachel_.

Puck brushed by Rachel, throwing his shoulder into the door as he barreled through, catching Finn's shocked expression from across the room. Rachel's curt, shrill voice hit somewhere in the back of his mind but failed to stop his advance. In just six swift strides, Puck yanked his fist back and wailed into Finn. The taller man fell to the ground after the first punch to the face, and would no doubt have a black eye after the second when Puck hovered over him. Finn grabbed Puck's shirt and tossed him to the ground, reciprocating the attack with a few blows of his own before Rachel managed to squeeze herself between the two men enough that neither would risk hurting her to get to the other.

"What the hell, dude?"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth!"

"Noah!" Rachel chastised just as loudly as the men's voices, keeping each of her hands on each man to keep them separated. "Both of you, stop."

"He started it!" Finn defended, stepping away in frustration. He walked to the kitchen for a wet rag and maybe some ice, mumbling some curse words under his breath.

Puck watched the whole thing with fire in his eyes, the red from earlier turning greener and greener. Why was Finn so damn familiar with Rachel's place? "You started it when you hooked up with my best friend's _wife!"_

"Quinn?" Finn asked, a package of frozen vegetables pressed against his right eye. "Yea, I liked her and stuff, but ... she kissed me. I … I wouldn't do that."

"Regardless," Rachel began, dragging her eyes off of Finn and back to Puck, "it is no excuse for such violence." She let her hand finally fall from his chest, unaware that she'd left it there until she felt his eyes on her. "Apologize, Noah."

"Fuck that noise!" Puck pointed at Finn accusingly. "He messed around with Sam's wife and you want _me_ to say sorry?"

"While I was unaware that it was Sam's wife, Finn's already explained to me everything that happened. And I feel terrible for Sam because it sounds like Quinn was the aggressor."

"And you believe this fucktard?" Puck asked incredulously, holding on to as much of his original indignation as he could. He knew Sam was blowing things out of proportion. Now it was Puck who ended up looking like an ass.

"Yes," she answered firmly. "Why wouldn't I?" Her eyes narrowed on him. "He's never lied to me."

"And I have?" Puck was taken aback, but not enough to keep his voice down. Rachel sighed and turned to Finn, quietly apologizing to him before she turned back to Puck. She grabbed his shirt and dragged him through the apartment, letting him go only after they were back out in the hallway. He shrugged out of her grip, turning around purposely and facing her. "_And I have_?"

"It doesn't matter anymore." Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, outwardly guarding her heart as much as she was inwardly. "I lied to myself first. I convinced myself that things were different – that things _could_ be different - but … I was wrong."

Puck's jaw was throbbing from one of Finn's punches, he still felt sick from running up all those stairs with all that beer sloshing around, and his ego wasn't exactly fairing well right now. But, most of all, it was her words that killed. Ever since he'd met her she'd been so understanding and so unwavering in her support (even if it had been subtle) and to hear that she was giving up was physically painful.

Rachel didn't care, though, because he'd given up first.

"You aren't who I thought you were." Her jaw set and she looked at him so intently that he was frozen to his spot, unable to reach out for her or convince her to stay after she delivered one final blow before walking back inside the apartment, back to Finn. "You're the Beast."


	23. And the Loser Is

**Author's Note:** I have a lot of disclaimers to add, so I'm going to keep the note short. THANK YOU. Seriously, what else can I say? You guys are amazing.

**Disclaimer #1:** This is for a certain coined word used later in the update. It will be pretty obvious which one I mean, and all credit goes to Shadowkitty22. Dude, I'm still laughing about it. :)

**Disclaimer #2:** This one is probably a little overdue, but especially applies to this chapter. I know NOTHING about Broadway. Like ... really ... nothing. Hopefully that doesn't ruin things for everyone and these scenarios can still seem minutely believable.

**Disclaimer #3:** Most of the outfits called out are those that the cast wore to (last year's?) SAG awards. You know, in case you wanted a better visual.

* * *

><p>Rachel stared at her reflection with a frown, lost in her thoughts. This night was the pinnacle moment of her professional career. It was what she'd been working toward her whole life, and while there was definitely part of her that was excited and proud of herself, there was another part was holding back. She wanted that part to go away, to cheer up and realize just how extraordinary this opportunity was. But no amount of willpower could change that part of her mind. It was set on melancholy and wasn't budging.<p>

Which was more than she could say for the other part of her. No matter how hard she tried to grow her enthusiasm, it just seemed to deflate. With the depression locked and loaded, the anger Rachel felt at the fact that she was feeling sad on such an amazing night trickled into her excitement. That made the sad part of her the biggest, the other part split between all the other emotions – happy, excited, nervous, angry. It was the biggest night of her life, and she wanted it to be over. How was that fair?

"Open up, Broadway!" Kurt banged on the bathroom door, a horrified expression on his face when she opened the door to reveal she wasn't finished with her makeup. "Are you kidding me? We have to leave in ten minutes!"

"She's not done?" Mercedes shouted from the other room. The black woman was still straightening her hair, but Rachel knew better than to point that out. The last thing they needed was a reason for her to crank up the diva attitude and refuse to leave. She'd almost refused to go on stage for the musical before, so Rachel knew her friend was capable of such a temper tantrum. "The limo is on its way!"

"Yes, thank you!" Kurt pushed into the bathroom, taking the makeup right from Rachel's hands. "I have to do everything."

"Says the guy with a stain on his shirt." She pressed her finger to his chest, waiting for Kurt to look down in panic before flicking her finger up and hitting him in the nose. "Psyche."

Kurt groaned unappreciatively, sweeping the soft brush across her cheeks. "You've been hanging out with Finn too much."

Rachel's smile faltered, the petite brunette hoping to cover it up by transitioning to the needed expression for Kurt to apply her eyeliner. She wasn't sure why she was trying to hide the truth from him when he was likely the first outsider to know. Kurt swept the liquid product across her eye's rim, then applied the shade to the lid and repeated the action on her other side. He added some bronzer to her cheekbones and then applied a light sheen of gloss to her lips before leaning back and surveying his work. He tilted his head to the left and then to the right, finally nodding his head once and smiling as he took her hand and led her out of the bathroom.

"Ta-da."

"She's not a show dog, Kurt," Blaine rolled his eyes, standing from the couch and refastening the button on his suit. "You look incredible."

"Thank you," she accepted his chaste kiss on each of her cheeks, letting him trail his hands down her arms and force her to turn once he got a hold of her one hand. The emerald green dress spun lightly at her feet, showcasing the killer heels she'd paired with the outfit to give her some height before the fabric pooled back in place. The front of the dress was as simple as the back, the plunging neckline accentuated by the classic ruffles and cinched waist. Her hair was in soft, natural curls and her makeup was equally subtle.

"I call it Simply Chic," Kurt stated from behind. He was wearing a classic black tux with a thin black tie and white shirt and his hair was gelled up to give him an almost youthful/punk look. It complimented Blaine's attire well, the curly-haired man dressed in a gray suit with black accents, black lapels, and black tie over a white shirt. Rounding out the men was Finn, who wore a dark charcoal suit with a black shirt and gray tie, pinned together with a novelty tie clip in the shape of a guitar. Despite everything, Rachel could admit that he looked the best of the three men.

"I call mine Attention Whore," Mercedes stated, posing glamorously to show off her elaborate gown. She'd insisted on black for the event, but it had been custom made for her body and it showed. The bottom was extremely intricate but incredibly put together, the pattern repeated on the one-shoulder sleeve of the mermaid-style dress. "No offense, Finn, but I don't think I'll need you to escort me for long."

Finn chuckled at Mercedes, fiddling with his tie a little before offering Rachel his arm. She accepted with a soft blush, bowing her head as the group poured out of the apartment and downstairs to the waiting limo. Slowly but surely the excitement started to take over her system, and she was sure it had nothing to do with the glass of champagne she'd had along with everyone else in toast to an amazing night. She was surrounded by people she adored, nominated for the category she'd sworn she was destined to win since she was a little girl, and she was on the arm of a man who was not just good looking but a good person.

She wasn't even going to think about how his arm wasn't quite as lovely as a certain other person's arm.

"Do you really think I'll meet Bono?" Finn asked suddenly, or maybe she'd just missed the precursor to his question.

"He was here last year!" Kurt announced merrily, his hand poised on the handle as the limo slowed in preparation of their arrival. As soon as it stopped in front of the red carpet and the door swung open, Kurt started their grand entrance with a wide but suddenly nervous smile. Blaine exited the car and placed his arm around Kurt's waist, immediately putting him at ease. The two of them offered a hand to Mercedes, the cameras flashing a little more enthusiastically. Not only was Mercedes not behind the scenes of the musical like Kurt, but she was also a woman, which meant her fashion choices were always going to be up for more discussion – not to mention competition.

Finn stepped out next, immediately presenting his hand back to help Rachel out of the limo. The buzz of reporters and photographers was already heightened in preparation, anticipating her inclusion in the group. But the second she stepped out, it was almost pandemonium. The clicks of the camera shutters echoed in her ears and the flashes from the lights blinded her so much that she found herself leaning on Finn a little more heavily than she anticipated. He led her slowly down the red carpet, stopping every now and again so they could stop and pose for pictures. She took a lot with Kurt and Mercedes, and a lot all by herself, pleased with the fact that she'd been practicing her smile since high school.

Then they got to the part of the red carpet where reporters were asking her who she was wearing and requesting interviews. Rachel was used to doing TV spots for the musical for promotions and such, so she only slightly hesitated when she was asked to speak to one of the major television networks. She looked back at Kurt, who all but pushed her up the small stairwell while the others took a more subtle approach to encouraging her onto the pedestal area. One of the other women nominated in her category was talking to the reporter, and when she was finished she hugged Rachel and whispered her support in Rachel's ear before walking down the stairs and back to the red carpet.

"And here's another nominated actress for a leading role, Ms. Rachel Berry."

Rachel smiled wide, making small talk with the female reporter. They each complimented each other's outfits, talked about how long it took them to get ready and if they were going to any after parties. Then the woman seemed to put on her interviewer hat, moving right into questions about the nomination and the other women in the category and then, finally, the musical itself.

"_Beauty and the Beast_ is one of the most beloved tales of love conquering all, setting something free and it coming back, and pretty much every other romantic cliché there is. Have you drawn and real-life similarities from the musical and your own life?"

Rachel instantly thought of Puck, no matter how hard she hadn't wanted to. She had to try very hard not to let her face fall, not to mention think of the correct way to answer the question. She knew it was important to find yourself in your character, but she wouldn't be able to confess just how much she'd felt like Belle when she'd been with Puck. It would be too hard, so she had to spin her answer in a different direction.

Puck knew it too, finishing the fifth of Jack Daniels he had clenched in his hand while he watched Rachel on the television give some lame answer. The two broads laughed and joked with each other for another minute or so and then Rachel was swept off camera, likely back into the arms of the giant she'd arrived with. Puck wanted to hurl, but he blamed it on the alcohol. It had nothing to do with that ogre manhandling his (Jewish American) princess. No, Puck was too pleased with the faint bluish/black mark under Finn's right eye to care that he was the one escorting Mercedes and Rachel down the red carpet.

He lumbered over to the dining room table and grabbed his phone. The bottle of alcohol dropped from his grip somewhere along the way, but he didn't care. He fell into the nearest seat and with crossed eyes, managing to send Santana a text that was meant to be funny and flirtatious but more closely resembled retarded. It had the desired effect, though, his phone buzzing in his hand almost instantly.

"Go for Puck," he answered smoothly, looking for the remote control as if he was actually considering turning off the television.

"Well I guess we're even," she bemoaned into the receiver, the distinct sound of wind echoing behind her. "I want that money I gave you after the whole Sam drunk-dialing incident back now."

"You'll have to come on over and get it," Puck leered. He smirked and waited for her response, pulling the phone away from his ear after about a minute of silence. He thought maybe he'd accidentally hit the end button, but then a second later his front door opened and Santana walked through. "Wow. Eager. I like it."

"You're disgusting." She wasn't talking about his open crudeness, but rather the pigsty he called an apartment. The empty bottle of alcohol in the middle of the floor was the least of the problem, clothes, empty takeout containers, papers, and random household items strewn all about. "You realize your mother and sister will be here _tomorrow_, right?"

He grunted in reply, stumbling closer to her. He swayed unsteadily and ended up using the sidewall of the kitchen to hold himself up. He'd made the connection earlier that it was Sunday and therefore the Tony Awards were on, but he hadn't really considered that tomorrow would be Monday. His mother and sister were driving to New York at that very moment, planning to stop somewhere in Pennsylvania before continuing on tomorrow. Puck expected them sometime before dinner, but knowing his mother she'd probably end up arriving closer to lunch.

"You're pathetic," Santana rephrased her disapproval, brushing past him and into the kitchen. She took great care in removing the three rings she'd been wearing as well as the Tiffany's bracelet hung loosely on her wrist. Then she yanked open the dishwasher and started to fill it with the few dishes piling up in his sink. Most of it was just cups and silverware, but she had to sift through the random plastic wrappers and boxes of half-empty food to get to the dishes.

She mumbled something in Spanish, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't have understood even if she'd spoken English. The room was spinning and he'd barely managed to lift himself up into one of the bar seats across from the sink without falling over it or himself. The sound of the first award being handed out filtered over him, and he focused harder on the Latina in an effort to drown out the urge he had to watch the stupid show just for the chance to see her.

"I'm not talking the usual kind of pathetic," she clarified, ripping out a fresh trash bag and gliding through the apartment. She didn't really care what she threw away, and frankly neither did he. "This is a new level of pathetic. Like, epic fail." She shook her head, resting the hand holding the bag against her hip while the other hand lifted up and pointed toward him accusatorily. "Only you would find a way to ruin a fuckship, really."

"A what?"

"Fuckship," she scoffed, clearly not of the mind that she was the one who wasn't making any sense. "It wasn't a relationship because you're emotionally retarded, and it's not friends with benefits because you weren't ever friends."

Even completely hammered and still trying to muster up a large amount of denial to help him cope, Puck wanted to refute her. He wanted to point out how things had changed between him and Rachel from the beginning. How he'd been there for her during her moment of weakness after the fertility diagnosis, and how she'd seen him in an equally vulnerable state during their trip to Ohio. Santana should know that even though she'd they'd been friend since in middle school – and Sam since college and Mike for the past five or so years – Rachel knew more about Puck than probably all of them combined.

She was his best friend, and look how he'd treated her.

"I hate to say I told you so," Santana continued, picking up trash from the floor. "But secretly I love it."

Puck rolled his eyes, stumbling back to the couch. He fell to the soft furniture with an unceremonious thud, his eyes unclear but focused on the television. They'd just announced the award for best performance by a male in a leading role and he knew the female award would be coming up soon. He fell down to the cushions, taking up the entire couch. He meant to just close his eyes for the length of the commercial break, but he startled awake when Santana clapped her hands by his ear, forcing him to sit up straight as she took a seat on the far end of the couch.

"And the Tony goes to …" His eyes moved to the TV screen, seeing the bated expressions of the five nominated actresses. "Rachel Berry for Belle in _Beauty and the Beast_!"

The camera honed in on Rachel and Puck felt his heart soar and break at the exact same time. She looked absolutely breathtaking, not just the dress but her expression. There was a mix of shock and awe on her face, covered up by a lot of enthusiasm and what looked like honor. Her smile was wide and she very carefully made her way to the front stage and accepted her award. Her hand was shaking when she moved some hair away from her face, her voice faltering only slightly at the first word of her acceptance speech.

"She looks so happy," Santana remarked softly, turning her head to face Puck instead of the television.

"She's fakin' it," he mumbled sleepily, lounging back down to a horizontal position, his head resting on Santana's lap. "I've seen her happy."

Santana regarded her friend for a long moment, took in his forlorn expression as Rachel wrapped up her acceptance speech by thanking every single person who ever believed in her. Despite all the teasing, Santana knew from Rachel's expression and from Puck's demeanor now and for the past three weeks that he was one of those people. Her voice quivered before she made her exit, a glimmer of the tears that had been threatening to fall caught on camera before it panned back to the host.

"You're bein' pretty nice for a bitch," he said after a long yawn, nestling deeper into her lap.

Santana smiled in spite of herself, her hand lifting up from her side to stroke his scalp. "Yea, well …" She caught herself for a moment, her voice dipping in self-preservation. "I know how you feel."

"Because you lost Sam?" He asked quietly, half asleep.

"No," Santana shook her head, dropping her voice even lower. "Because I love Brittany the way you love Rachel."

Puck's eyes were closed, but they wouldn't have widened in shock regardless. The only thing that surprised him about Santana's confession was that she'd said it out loud. He'd already guessed things were getting serious between her and the blonde considering how little he'd seen or heard from the Latina outside of work. Plus, she had been a little too accommodating to his bad mood ever since he'd gotten back from Ohio; like she envied his strength to leave Rachel when she clearly couldn't do the same to Brittany.

"Lemme give you some advice," he mumbled into her leg, turning over so the back of his head lay flat on her legs and prying his eyes open. She looked down at him expectantly and he just smiled sadly. He could tell she was expecting him to tell her that it wasn't worth it. Advise her to get out while she could and never look back. But, even given his state, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Everything that happened between Rachel and him might have swirled down the drain at an alarming rate – all at his doing – but he would do it all again.

"Don't fuck it up." Then he smirked, his eyes closing again. "Because I'd hate to say I told ya so."

"But secretly you'd love it."


	24. Trying to Make Changes

**Author's Note:** So I've had basically a shitty week ... and it's only Wednesday. I'm updating this and hoping that even though it is short and even though there wasn't much feedback for the last chapter that you guys can give me SOME reason to look forward to the next day. It's hard for me to write when I'm like this, so ... yea. I'm clearly not above threatening, but I'd rather beg: PLEASE REVIEW. :)

To those already reading and reviewing, I love ya. For reals. Thank you.

**Disclaimer:** Remember last time when I said I know nothing about Broadway? Yea, well, now I'm just makin' shit up. Roll with it. :D

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><p>Rachel walked down the street in a fog, moving on autopilot from the theater to one of her most favorite spots. Even though Rachel grew up wanting to perform on Broadway and thought the bright marquees were the most beautiful things in the whole world, whenever she came to New York with her fathers as a young girl she would always want to see Times Square. It was truly the heartbeat of the city, so full of life no matter the hour that it was hypnotizing. Since moving to the city Rachel had found a local coffee shop with sidewalk seating, and whenever she needed to get away or wanted to just absorb the excitement of the city, she'd grab a small table with a view of the fork and just zone out.<p>

And she needed nothing more today than a few hours of time to think.

After this afternoon's matinee showing, Rachel was approached by one of the most well known producers in recent Broadway history. Scott Davidson had an ear for what people wanted to hear, and an eye for the talent who could make it happen. She'd met him at Julliard, where he often visited to scope out the up-and-coming talent. While Rachel preferred to assume she was hired for her skill alone, she was secure enough in her abilities that she could admit Scott's role in her audition for _Beauty and the Beast_. He'd helped get her foot in the door, and then she'd done the rest – just like he'd said she would.

Now, however, he had other plans for her. For some time now, musical theater had been evolving from original productions to adaptations, _Beauty and the Beast_ a perfect example. There were still those gems that started on off-Broadway and made it mainstream, but today's producers and directors were working with well-known scripts, performers, and music in an effort to get the most out of their moment in the spotlight. Scott was approached about adapting one of the most recent blockbuster hits into a musical, and there was only one person he knew who could pull off the songwriting and creation: Rachel.

To be honest, he wasn't the first person to approach her in the last week. Ever since she'd won the Tony, her phone had pretty much been ringing nonstop. But, Scott's was the first offer that actually intrigued Rachel. She'd already been considering moving on from _Beauty and the Beast_, telling herself it was more because she'd been there for four years and less because every scene reminded her of Puck in one way or another. Writing the songs for the musical would be a new experience, rewarding not just because of the notoriety that would most definitely follow but because it was something she hadn't done since college.

Original songwriting was a passion of Rachel's, one she cultivated in high school for her glee club and used to help catapult her to the top of her class at Julliard. She had a knack for digging deep inside herself and finding those emotions that just resonated with people; heartache, loneliness, and the desire for a better life were all common themes in her life and they certainly weren't limited to just her. Putting them to music was the easy part. Even with her busy schedule these days, sometimes she still found herself sitting down with a pen and a pad of paper, writing a new song that she'd probably never sing but one that had to come out.

"Rachel?"

She blinked a few times, only after the interruption from her thoughts noticing that her view of the fork in the road had been obstructed. She tilted her head up a little, lifting her hand up to her brow to block the sun shining behind his silhouette. Her brain sent the message to her mouth to smile, but inside she was scorning herself for being the only person in all of New York who seemed to have a target on her back. There were millions of residents in Manhattan alone and yet Rachel had to run into the one person she hoped never to see again – and especially not when she was in such emotional turmoil.

"Hey, Jesse!" She answered brightly, not letting on even a hint of sadness. "I thought you were in California?"

"Tour ended." He gestured to the empty chair at her small table and she nodded politely, moving her purse off the wire seat. "I've been back for a couple of weeks now." He smiled at her, resting his elbows on the hard surface of the table. "Congratulations on your award."

"Thank you." Rachel bowed her head, trying to hide the satisfied smile that came along with his accolades and the memory of him telling her she'd never win a major award without stepping on a few people to get there. For those keeping score, Rachel: 1; Jesse: 0. "It's been an incredible experience."

"No doubt garnering the attention of some heavy hitters in the business."

It was more of a question than a statement and Rachel simply nodded in response before changing the subject. "Speaking of which, what brings you back to town?"

"I've been chosen to star as the lead in the _Movin' On_ revival off Broadway."

"You're playing Billy Joel?" She asked comically, her eyes flicking up to his hair once again, this time taking an extra moment to evaluate the new look. "That makes sense."

Jesse never really had a sense of humor, which is why his scowl transformed his entire face at even her most innocent of jokes. "Well, not everyone can be happy staying in one spot for so long. There's just no growth in that."

"Well," her jaw set, her eyes narrowing, "I'm thinking about composing a new adaption that Scott Davidson is producing."

"Really?" He grinned like a cat and Rachel realized getting her to admit such an offer had been his plan all along. Honestly, if he weren't such an amazing performer he'd be the best reporter or private investigator in town. "Just thinking about it?"

Rachel bit her lip, shrugging one shoulder emptily. Right now, yes, she was just thinking about it. She was thinking about how wonderful it was to be in a show where both your best friends also were included. She was thinking about how scary it would be to start something so completely new, not just because it was something she hadn't done before but was something that could potentially fail on many levels. She was thinking about being in a rut personally and wondering if she could come out of it professionally.

"Still the romantic, I see."

"What does that mean?" She questioned immediately, her body tensing.

"Tony or not, you can't hide everything." He lifted his hand and gingerly grazed the knuckle of his index finger over her temple. "Your eyes still frown."

She moved out of the way of his affection, covering up the rudeness by fixing her hair and then taking a sip of her tea. Her mind filtered to her previous thoughts, and she wondered if she could spin her obviously solemn expression toward a different meaning. The last person in the world she wanted to discuss her love life with was Jesse, and that was true even when they were dating. If Rachel was a romantic, then Jesse was the antithesis of that – Kurt had deemed him the anti-Cupid after last year.

But, maybe he had been right.

Considering everything Rachel had been through in the last two months, she could definitely see the value in focusing solely on your career. If she'd had that one-track mind, she never would have found herself in the predicament she did with Finn and Puck. She would have never had to come up with a plan on how to choose between the two of them because, long before, she would have chosen to simply choose herself. It would have made everything easier; no one would have gotten hurt.

"I just broke up with someone," she admitted, then managed to laugh humorlessly. "Someones. I guess."

He quirked an eyebrow up at her, a small smile crossing his face. "I saw you on the arm of an unidentified male for the awards show."

"Yes, that was Finn. He's Kurt's brother." Rachel sighed. "We dated a few times, but we went to the show as friends."

She frowned when she recalled the night that Puck had showed up at her apartment. He'd looked pretty rough and entirely too good at the same time, but Rachel was luckily more stubborn than she was desperate. Regardless, his confession had rocked her to her very core, and she'd crumbled against the door the second she'd left him in the hallway. Even with his eye blackening by the second, Finn had crouched down in front of her and comforted her as she told him the whole sad story. From there they couldn't very well go forward, so instead they decided it would be better if they just stayed still, as friends.

And it was hard being friends with someone who was as undeniably handsome and adorable as Finn, but she should never have started dating him in the first place. She'd only done it to prove to herself that she could get over Puck (because clearly there hadn't been anything between them to _get over_). But it wasn't fair to Finn to date him when her heart still longed for Noah. However, heartfelt confession or not, she wasn't going to drop everything to be with Noah when _that_ person had disappeared somewhere between Ohio and New York.

"It doesn't matter," she finally stated, in a recognizably worse mood than she had been before her thoughts had gotten away with her. "You were right."

The words seemed to shock him more than her. "I was?"

"I can't believe I almost let a man come between _everything_ I've been working toward since I was a toddler." She shook her head emphatically, her hands moving in front of her as she spoke. "I need to get my focus back! It's time to move on to bigger and better things."

"Not too hard to do coming from a Disney-made musical …"

"You were right all along. We're born to be stars and that means we can't stop for anything."

"I'm getting married."

Rachel's mouth literally hung open, the rest of her diatribe lost as she stared at him blankly. She didn't even breathe, just looked at him as if he had three heads and had just told her he was considering plastic surgery to _add_ another. "Excuse me?"

"Don't be jealous."

"That is the furthest thing from my mind," she responded without pause, shrinking into herself a bit in embarrassment. He shrugged it off, though, managing a smile as Rachel tried to process the news and the shock that came along with it. Jesse? Married? "Who is she?"

"She's a singer."

In all the time she'd known him, Jesse had never been tight-lipped. He was usually the first in line to brag or gloat about something, and he didn't even wait for an invitation to critique your performance. Subtlety was lost on him, and he never spared anyone's feelings. So the fact that he was being almost _coy_ right then told Rachel more than anything he could have explained. It spoke volumes of how he'd finally changed, like this woman had managed to stand in front of his tunnel vision so he was forced to focus on both her and his career.

"Not as technically sound as you, but she's good."

Rachel snorted a breath of laughter, shaking her head slightly. Because just like that, she was reminded that sometimes things _don't_ change. And, just like _that_, she couldn't stop thinking about Puck. About how she'd sworn he was transforming from the beast to the prince. How she'd clearly been wrong. How she still caught herself wishing she hadn't been.

Her eyes flashed to Jesse's, looking at him pensively. There was a time before she had the musical to draw the parallel where the same could have been said for him. Jesse could be a prince, but he was mostly the beast. And, even though he was getting married and clearly loved this woman, the beast still lived inside him, ready to rear its ugly head should he hear an off key or see a bad cabriole. It wasn't that he hadn't transformed. Both characters simply lived inside him.

Just like they did in Puck.

He could be the prince. He was charming and smooth and honest. There were sides of him that were soft and caring – usually reserved for particularly tough cases at the office or his mother and little sister. But, even through the sweetness, he would always be a little bit of a beast. He was crude, crass, and had a complete disregard for the English language despite his obvious achievements in higher education. He solved problems by fighting or screwing instead of talking, and even at thirty years old he was still struggling with figuring out the true traits that classified someone as "manly".

He wasn't perfect, but neither was she.

"Why do you think we didn't work out?" She asked quietly, her head bowed because she didn't have the strength to look at him. She instead focused on her tea, thinking about all the reasons she had for her own question but still wanting to hear his. Even if people didn't exactly change, she wanted to at least believe that her relationships could. She hoped she wasn't always destined to be second best.

"Because you broke up with me," he answered flatly, causing Rachel to lift her eyes and evaluate him. Turned out Jesse did have a sense of humor. "We wanted the same things, but you wanted more." He shrugged. "And I wasn't ready to even understand that back then."

Rachel considered his words, used them against her current situation. She'd been accused of wanting too much before, but she'd reigned in that need with Puck. It had mostly been unconscious, just her desire to be with him outweighing her desire to control the situation. It had outweighed everything, clouding her previous delusions that the musical would fall apart without her or the preconception that the things she wanted or needed weren't as important as everyone else's. She'd ignored it all just to enjoy a few extra minutes with Puck, and now – even with the pain – she craved just another minute.

But, like Rachel obviously wasn't enough for Jesse, maybe she wasn't enough for Puck either.

"I'm still not sure I'm ready, but Jessica is a lot like you in that she gets what she wants."

Rachel managed a soft smile, her eyes twinkling a little. "Jessica?" She questioned comically. "Jesse and Jessica?" Jesse scowled and it only made Rachel smile wider, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. "Does she like Billy Joel?"

He rolled his eyes in response, finally accepting her humor with a snort of laughter. "Who doesn't?"

Rachel's thoughts immediately went to Puck again, and she knew he was probably a fan if only because Billy Joel was Jewish. Of what she saw of his old CD collection in his childhood bedroom, his musical tastes were pretty standard, a lot of hard rock and country with the occasional classic rock or punk disc. He had a serious sound system in his apartment but she'd never gotten the chance to hear what had been playing. It would have made her sad if she didn't know that the reason she hadn't scoped out his current musical preference was because she was usually busy doing other things.

"It's got to be the other guy, right?" She kinked her eyebrows together, not understanding his question. "You keep fading away and I'm fairly certain it has nothing to do with the Finn fellow." He seemed intrigued by her slight misery, and she supposed she deserved that after the superior smile after he'd congratulated her for the Tony award. "So there was another guy."

"Just another failed attempt," she answered sadly.

"If I know anything about you, it's that you don't fail."

She bit her lip, tilting her head to the right as she looked him over. A line like that a year ago would have floored her, would have changed everything terrible he'd ever done or said. But, today, it just reminded her how people _could_ change. Maybe things didn't work out with Finn or Puck, but she'd learned something from each of those relationships. With Finn she learned that she had to be true to herself no matter what. She was controlling, talkative, determined, and a million other adjectives that weren't necessarily good all the time. But that was who she was, and she couldn't deny it anymore than she should try to change it.

But even though _she_ couldn't change it, what she learned with Puck was that _he_ could. Rachel needed to find someone who knew her for exactly who she was – and accepted that. However, she also learned that there were sides to her that even Rachel wasn't familiar with yet. She needed to be with someone who provoked those sides, who forced her out of her comfort zone and out of her rigid schedule and made her live life.

"And," Jesse drawled out, coming to stand in front of her just like he had when he first appeared. "You rarely give up."

He winked at her, replacing his sunglasses and leaving with a wave. Rachel watched him walk straight through the bustling crowd, refusing to weave in and out like everyone else. When she couldn't see him anymore, she got up to leave, too. She had to get back to the theater for the second show, and now that she had a better plan in mind that was longer than just the next week things didn't seem so depressing. Yes, it might hurt now and she couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn't think about something and have it remind her of Puck, but she had to try.

Just like she had to try to change so maybe one day she'd be enough for the prince to outweigh the beast.


	25. Unhappy Fourth of July

**Author's Note:** I can't believe it. This story actually passed 400 reviews. Considering how many chapters are left, I might ACTUALLY hit 500. That is just ... insane. You guys seriously blow my mind! The week actually got shittier but somehow your reviews and encouragement brought me back to neutral. Thank you so much! This chapter is again missing that element you guys (and myself) are all craving, but it is a little more fun than Rachel's introspection. I hope you like it and let me know what you think!

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><p>The sound of the kids screaming could be heard the second Puck opened the cab door. Visions of sprinklers and water balloons danced in his head, and he seriously thought about jumping back in the cab and demanding the driver take him back home. It wasn't a bad idea considering it wasn't going to be easy getting a cab ride back into the city from Brooklyn, but his little sister was already walking up the Evans' front walkway so Puck couldn't very well leave her behind.<p>

Could he?

It would serve her right. She'd been on his case since she'd arrived almost two weeks ago, not dulling at all even though his mother had only stayed to torture him for a couple of days. Puck didn't think he'd hear the end of it after that first night his mother and sister had gone to Rachel's musical. He'd avoided the whole thing with a perfectly timed emergency C-section, but the two relatives made up for it by berating him the next day after they'd come home to find him completely wasted. He hadn't meant to get so drunk, but he knew they were going to come home gushing about Rachel's performance and how she looked and whatever they talked about after the show and he wasn't in the mood.

His mother, however, wasn't in the mood either. She had one day left after that night before she was driving back to Ohio and she spent the whole time telling him how stupid he was. Honestly, it felt like high school all over again except this time he was on her side. Puck knew he made a mistake, but he was old enough now that instead of acting out and doing something stupid because of it, he was trying to accept it. It sucked and his mother actually didn't appreciate his more subdued approach, but he'd already made a fool of himself once and that had been enough for him. It was time to count his losses and move on.

Which was more than he could say for his buddy Sam.

"Hey guys!" Sam greeted the second Puck and Sarah made their way to the backyard. The blonde wore a chef's hat and an apron that proclaimed his love for handling meat. Puck had bought it a couple of years ago as a gag gift, and he found himself laughing out loud that his friend not only still had it but actually wore it. "We're glad you came!"

"It wasn't my idea," Puck muttered, taking the covered fruit salad Sarah had prepared from his sister's grasp. He gestured with his head to inside the house, disappearing in the quaint Brooklyn home that housed Sam, Quinn, their two kids, and the overly obedient golden retriever the oldest had mistakenly named Lassie. It was immaculate inside, no doubt cleaned up and down yesterday in preparation of the Fourth of July barbeque. It was also beautifully quiet, and Puck savored the minutes he could get away with hiding inside.

"Hi, Unc Pk."

He dipped his head down, smiling a little at the little girl who'd quickly nixed that plan. "Hello, little lady." He looked up and then around before focusing back on the small child. "Whatcha doin' in here by yourself?"

"Momma tell me to gets my babin suit." She smiled wide, outstretching her tiny arm to show him the pink, frilly outfit in her hand. "I goin' swimnin."

"No, honey, there's no pool." Mike came into the house, looking for his daughter and smiling when he heard her holding a conversation with Puck. "You're going to play in the sprinkler with SJ and Lucy." She didn't look convinced or particularly pleased with the change in plans. "The water comes out of a flower and swirls all around."

"Fwower!" She squealed, running away quickly with the bathing suit flowing in the wind behind her.

Mike just shrugged at Puck, moving next to his friend after grabbing a few pieces of fruit from the bowl and popping them in his mouth. He chewed and seemed to take in the few moments of uninterrupted silence like much needed oxygen. Then again, Hanna was four now and Puck imagined quiet time _was_ like air at this point in his life.

"So Sarah says you struck a deal to come here."

"She said I could drink if we came," he responded comically, shrugging his shoulders even as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned deeper against the kitchen counter. "Chick's fuckin' insane. She didn't just make my place dry, but she legit threw a bottle of Jack against the wall in protest."

"Because?"

"Because she's bat-shit crazy!"

Mike chuckled, leaning back and stealing some more fruit. "Well, come outside. I'm sure there's a beer in that cooler somewhere."

"Yea, under all the lemonade and sissy shit, I'm sure." Puck rolled his eyes, following Mike back to the deck. Sarah was talking to Sam about the possibility of working at the school as an art teacher. The two had talked about it already once, and Puck knew Sarah was really just exploring her options. She was great with kids and could definitely do the job, but it wasn't her passion. She loved art and while she enjoyed the social nature of art classes and such, she was equally happy holing herself into a room for days on end to finish a particular project.

"Mom!"

All the adults turned their heads when Sam and Quinn's oldest, SJ, screamed from the middle of the backyard. His arm was outstretched and pointing toward his younger sister, Lucy, who was about twenty feet away from the sprinkler but still in the grass and not any closer to the deck. She suddenly crouched down a little and then a stream of what everyone knew was pee came out between her legs. She looked down and watched the flow until it stopped, smirking widely toward the deck before she went back to running through the sprinkler. It was seriously the grossest thing Puck had seen in awhile (and he'd _delivered_ a kid a couple of days ago), but for whatever reason he couldn't stop laughing.

"Shut up!" Quinn reprimanded tightly. "Don't encourage her!"

"Me?" He questioned breathlessly, still laughing. "Maybe you should talk to the mutt."

On cue, Lassie dashed across the yard, shaking its fur dry before stopping at its standard spot to handle its business. Then it ran back into the sprinkler, frolicking happily with the children while still maintaining enough collectedness that the adults didn't mind using the dog as a babysitter. They were too busy talking about the weather and plans for the summer and family gatherings tomorrow for the actual holiday. Everyone but Puck, that is, because he got so bored with the conversation and frustrated with the lack of alcohol that he moved back inside after only five or ten minutes.

Santana had texted him a couple of minutes ago saying that her and Brittany were being held at the gates of suburbia, and given the commotion he could hear outside he knew they'd arrived. Tina was apparently pretty tight with Brittany, probably just relieved the hot blonde Mike worked with every day ended up being into chicks more than the two actually having much in common. Quinn and Santana never got along, and the fact that the latter had brought beer certainly didn't make things better between the two. Puck, on the other hand, sprang from his lounged position on the living room couch the second Santana walked into the house with the case.

"Her majesty requests this be hidden in the fridge." Santana rolled her eyes, shoving the beer into his waiting arms while she opened the refrigerator door. She pushed aside enough leftovers on one shelf to make room for the case, moving aside so Puck could put the beer inside. "You would think I brought crack."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Sarah remarked from the doorway, glaring at Santana's proximity to her brother. The Latina just rolled her eyes at Puck and moved through the house toward the back. "You best not be barkin' up that tree again."

Pucked crossed his arms over his chest, sighing as he leaned back against the counter. It was no secret that Sarah didn't like Santana. The Latina had tortured the poor girl when she was younger, and as Sarah grew up and grew a thicker skin the two often went head to head about almost anything. It was strange since Puck and Santana were so alike and Puck and Sarah were also very similar; the two girls should be like sisters. Instead, Sarah seemed to take a more protective role, treating Puck like her younger sibling even though it was the other way around. And even though Puck and Santana were just friends and had been for a lot longer than they'd ever been anything more, Sarah was always skeptical about that arrangement.

"Because I swear I'll tell Ma and she'll come right back …"

"Really? The mom card?" Puck shook his head walking out of the kitchen. "Calm the fuck down, would you?"

"Puck!" Quinn growled as she entered the house, carrying an empty bowl of what used to be chips. "Can you at least try to watch your mouth? Lucy is three now and she's just repeating _everything_ she hears, and you know SJ understands what you are saying."

"They're outside," he defended quickly, sighing when Sarah left him alone with the blonde woman. Sarah didn't like Quinn much either, but that was more because she was a bitch and less because they had a history. "S'not like I told them you fucked another guy." Quinn stared at him with daggers, the whites of her knuckles brighter against the hard contrast of the red bowl. He'd learned long ago that him and Quinn got along better if they didn't talk to each other, but considering his mood he wasn't really up for walking on eggshells. "Did you need a stepladder to kiss that prick or what?"

She calmly placed the large plastic bowl on the counter, flipping her hair just a little as she looked up at him. "No, but I bet Rachel does."

Puck brushed by her and her stupid satisfied smile, walking back out to the deck and then down to the yard. He needed some space and unfortunately he was literally fenced in. And, even more unfortunate, he was trapped with people who for whatever reason felt like they needed to help him get out of the rut he'd been in for the past six or so weeks.

"Hey, man," Mike greeted quietly, both their backs facing the deck of adults and somehow the side area where the kids had moved on to water balloon fighting. "Why don't you just call her?"

"Call who?" He asked, a stupid question given Mike's resulting expression. "You're right. I'll call her. Maybe she could bring Finn, too. Ya'think Sam would like that? One big happy family?"

Mike rolled his eyes, not amused by Puck's attitude. "We're just tryin' to help."

"Well it's not workin', OK?" Puck snarled. "I just want some God damn peace!"

"A God damn piece of what?" SJ asked suddenly, a balloon in his hand and poised to be tossed somewhere near the dog or maybe Hanna. Mike and Puck lifted their eyes to the deck to see if Sam or Quinn had heard the exchange, and given both of them moving closer to the pair at an alarming rate they figured they had. Mike went with Sam to distract the kids while Quinn got right into Puck's face.

"What did I tell you?"

"Get out of my face, Q." Puck moved by her again, going back to the deck and taking the can of beer right from Santana's hands. It was cool already and the entire contents slid down his throat like a fresh breeze.

"This is my house and I will not tolerate this behavior in front of my children. We're all sorry you blew it with Rachel …"

"And I'm sorry you blew Finn." He paused for a nanosecond. "I mean blew _it_ with Finn."

"You're such an asshole!"

"Watch your mouth, Quinn. Luc might hear you." Then he raised his voice. "And we'd hate for her to hear that her mom is a cocktease!"

"Puck!" Sam shouted, climbing the deck stairs in two quick strides and pulling his friend into the house. Quinn was hot on his heels, leaving everyone else to whisper about what had just happened and keep the children as far away from the conversation they all knew wasn't even close to over. "I appreciate you, like, defending my honor or whatever, but … you don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't?" He quirked up an eyebrow, looking past Sam and over at Quinn. "In all these heart-to-heart talks you've had recently, have you told him exactly what happened back during senior year at NYU?" Her scowl deepened and he smirked. "Looks like I know more than you think, Sammy."

"What is he talking about?"

"Tell him, Quinn. Tell him that Finn wasn't the first guy to turn you down." She was stark white and looked like she might pass out, but Puck wasn't even close to being done. "Tell him you made me promise not to say anything about how you tried to take our strip poker game into the bedroom."

Sam whipped around to face Quinn, the latter immediately trying to defuse the situation while Puck just walked by them back toward the deck. He grabbed another beer and downed it even while everyone was staring at him. The kids were now eating in the style of a picnic at the far end of the yard, partially guarded by the dog and partially trapped by the _hungry_ dog who no doubt knew the little one would drop at least something worth eating. Everyone else heard Quinn try to quickly backpedal, explaining that it was just a kiss between Finn and the thing with Puck had been because she was drunk and nothing had happened that he didn't already know so it shouldn't matter. Apparently it did matter, though, because Sam didn't say anything and then reappeared on the deck quickly, Quinn following close behind.

"Sam, please just listen to me."

"No," he answered firmly, accepting the beer Puck tossed toward him. "We'll talk about this with the therapist."

Quinn huffed out a breath, her eyes flashing with anger as she evaluated Puck. "I hope you're happy!"

"Getting' there," he responded, toasting to her with another can of beer that he drained equally as fast as the others.

"No _wonder_ she picked Finn over you." He wanted to bite back about how Finn had picked Rachel over Quinn, but the blonde talked too quickly. "You're pathetic."

"Me?" He scoffed, using the expanse of his forearm to wipe his mouth. "At least I didn't cheat on my husband because I was bored."

"At least _I_ didn't dump my girlfriend because I was scared!"

"She wasn't my girlfriend," he volleyed back immediately, ignoring the soft whisper from Brittany to Santana asking if Quinn was bisexual. The word threesome left her mouth and Santana actually managed a quiet laugh even though she'd been watching Puck and Quinn intently.

"What do you mean she wasn't your girlfriend?" Sarah questioned, all of the adults moving their attention from the fighting pair to the younger woman. She looked exactly like Puck did when he was confused, her arms crossed and one eyebrow cocked up dubiously. Her eyes were set on her older brother, and she was just as stubborn as he was so she wouldn't just give him a pass like others might.

Puck's anger deflated a little, his eyes scanning over the others' faces before landing on his sister's. She didn't looked pissed like Quinn or amused like Santana. She didn't even look devestated like Sam. She looked ... ashamed of him.

"I just told Ma I was dating someone to get her off my case. Rach and I were just … foolin' around."

Sarah's brows furrowed closer together, her head shaking a little in response to his answer. None of it made sense to her, especially considering her brother's attitude since she'd come to New York. If Puck and Rachel had just been fooling around, then he would have just moved on to the next bimbo just like he did in high school. And Rachel, even though Sarah didn't know her too well, wouldn't have avoided talking about Puck entirely when they'd gone to see her musical. There wouldn't be so much pain between the two of them if it had been casual.

"I think you were pretending, for sure, but not about what you think you were."

Puck and everyone else watched Sarah stand up and walk away, moving across the yard to go sit with the kids. He was staring at his little sister but he could feel everyone else's eyes on him and he couldn't take it. It unnerved him enough that he swept past the group once more, moving through the house and all the way to the front porch. He'd been outside before, but the air felt lighter in front of the house. He sat down on the porch, his feet resting on the second step. He slumped against the column at the corner of the railing, the warm wood against the side of his head providing no sense of stability to his thoughts.

"Who knew a Puckerman would know how to pack such a powerful punch with her words and not her fists, huh?" Mike joked as he came to sit next to Puck.

The latter managed to snort in laughter, moving to mirror Mike's relaxed position. He let his elbows rest on his knees, supporting his upper body while his head faced forward. A lot of other homes in the neighborhood were having cookouts as well, the smoke from the grills visible over the houses and the street lined with cars. The whole thing reminded him of Sarah's graduation back in Ohio, except today didn't feel as much like a family reunion. In fact, it hadn't felt familiar or pleasant at all, and even though a lot of that had been because of his squabbling with Quinn, he knew a lot of it was also that Rachel wasn't there to hold it all together.

"Look, man, I've been tryin' to give you your space. I mean, I know you don't want to hear it and especially not from me." Mike shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I've been in love with Tina since high school and I've never known any different so what the fuck do I know, right?"

Mike rarely cursed. He was pretty soft spoken as it was, and much like Quinn was worried about Lucy, Tina had already pulled the same thing at their house thanks to Hanna. So when he'd said the word 'fuck', Puck actually flinched. This was serious.

"But Sam told me the thing about you not wanting his want his life and that you weren't him, but … I mean, Rachel isn't Quinn either, right?" Puck shook his head vehemently. "Well, then ... be Puck and Rachel."

Puck breathed out a chuckle, shaking his head in derision. He wished it were that easy. Pride was not the issue. If it would work, he'd stand outside her apartment day and night serenading her until she agreed to just talk to him. But that wasn't why he wasn't listening to his friends. It wasn't why he wasn't listening to his mom or his sister. It wasn't why he wasn't listening to his heart.

"She deserves better than me," he admitted, not daring to look up from his sagged position.

Mike seemed to consider the statement before he said, "Maybe that's because you don't know who you really are."

Puck sighed, accepting Mike's pat on the back as he thought about his advice not to mention his sister's words, everything between Quinn and Sam, and the past six weeks in general. Then he considered the time before that, from the day he met Rachel up until the day they got back from Ohio. And maybe Mike was right.

Puck thought he knew himself pretty well, but now he wasn't sure if who he was now was the same as who he was with Rachel.


	26. Hurled Into a Difficult Situation

**Author's Note:** I'm pretty sure this chapter will come as no shock to anyone reading, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Some of you have been begging for some Puckleberry, and I'm pleased to announce there is a MINIMAL amount, though I doubt it will satiate ... anyone. Haha. A million thank yous to everyone who is reading and reviewing, and that includes those anonymous people who I cannot thank individually. All of you are awesome!

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><p>Rachel's back arched again, her head lowering back down to the oval-shaped opening of the toilet in her dressing room. Her knees dug deep into the hard surface of the bathroom floor as her stomach lurched, Rachel pressing her hands into the cool surface of the porcelain. She hadn't eaten anything since this morning and yet she gagged again, emptying the remaining contents of her stomach before slumping down to the floor for a few moments of repreive. She gingerly swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, breathing out heavily before prying herself back up to her feet.<p>

"Did you throw up _again_?" Mercedes questioned impatiently, slowing to a stop right outside the open bathroom door.

"No," Rachel answered unconvincingly, stumbling past her friend toward the loveseat in her dressing room. She braced her arms on the soft furniture, lowering herself slowly and eventually lying down. Her eyes closed out of exhaustion, Rachel melting into the cushions with a sigh. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but her hands felt cold and clammy.

"You've been sick all week." Mercedes frowned. "You can't go on tonight."

"I'll be fine."

The words weren't out of her mouth for more than a few seconds before Kurt stormed into the dressing room, his phone pressed to his ear and his other hand full of all the outfits for Belle. Rachel's ears perked up in an attempt to hear who was talking on the other line, but then her eyes opened and she couldn't focus on anything else but the dresses in his hand. From the hemline alone she could tell they weren't _her_ dresses, which meant they were already planning on letting Erin take over _her_ character tonight.

Kurt hung up the phone and put up his hand in protest to her growing temper. "Save your breath, Diva. Blaine is on his way here to pick you up and Erin is already in makeup."

"You have _no_ right …"

"I have every right," he countered. "As the best friend, it is within my rights to make decisions for you when yours suck." Kurt bobbed his head once. "Just check the contract."

Rachel groaned as Mercedes and Kurt started talking about her as if she weren't in the room, and she would have gotten up to defend herself if she wasn't afraid of hurling all over the two of them. She never got sick so this didn't make any sense, and the fact that she'd used her understudy so much recently just made it worse. After Blaine took her home, Rachel was going to bake an entire platter of 'I'm sorry' cookies for the director.

"Rest up, hun," Mercedes said sweetly before leaving. Curtain went up in an hour and she still hadn't gone to makeup or costume.

"And drink plenty of fluids," Kurt added.

"What else would I drink?" She asked bitterly, finally moving to a sitting position. Kurt shrugged his shoulders and left her dressing room, leaving Rachel approximately five minutes to gather her things and wait out front for Blaine. They were one of the few people in her circle of friends who actually owned a car, mostly because Blaine used to travel a lot for his work. Now it was almost a communal vehicle, tossed around between Finn, Rachel, Mercedes and some of Blaine's friends if anyone needed to go outside the city. Absently she wondered how long that would last if/when the adoption went through and a car seat was added to the back.

"Sick as a dog and still as beautiful as ever," Blaine said in way of greeting. Rachel blushed but rolled her eyes, opening the passenger side door and stepping into the car. She'd looked at the mirror in her dressing room before coming outside and knew she looked far from beautiful. "Don't shoot the messenger."

"You're more the carrier service," she joked lightly, leaning back heavily into the leather cushions and shutting her eyes. "But you're right. I'm sorry about my attitude. I'm very grateful."

"It's what friends are for," he answered casually, looking back behind his left shoulder before moving back into the moving traffic.

"It's in the contract. I heard."

Blaine laughed lightly, flicking a glance her way as they stopped at a red light. "Well then you probably already know about the none of my business clause." Rachel managed to lift an eyebrow in curiosity without opening her eyes. "Section twenty, paragraph three, line twelve." Her smile encouraged him to continue. "It states that friends can butt in to other friends' personal lives without consequence."

"Kurt didn't go over that one. Tell me more."

"Well," he cleared his throat nervously, "it, uh, occurs to me that it isn't exactly flu season." Rachel didn't say anything, so he was forced to continue. "And _eventually _– not to mention completely by accident and he still feels terrible so don't –"

"Spit it out, Blaine."

"Right, well, um … he told me about the fertility thing and …" Blaine trailed off, stopping at another red light and his eyes widening in response to Rachel's eyes opening and honing in on him. "What if you're pregnant?"

Her glare didn't falter, but Rachel felt her stomach fall like a brick. It landed somewhere on the floor of the car, which was a terrible spot for it because that just happened to be where she puked instantly when Blaine's words finally registered. He swerved the car in response and let out a little yelp that was so high-pitched that she wondered if only her and dogs heard it. She was humiliated and would have been apologetic if she wasn't inside her head doing feverish calculations and trying to recall a health lesson from more than ten years ago.

Blaine turned into a late-night car wash that also cleaned the inside, Rachel managing to pry herself out of her own brain to step in front of Blaine and hand the cashier her credit card. Blaine pointed to the convenience store that was attached to the business, leaving her by the window as she mindlessly watched the employees clean up after her mess. Well, the one she made in Blaine's car anyway. The mess she made of her life … she wasn't sure _anyone_ could clean that up now.

"It says it's 99.9% accurate." She turned to her right, her eyes landing on the small rectangular box in Blaine's hand and stopping there. "I got you a tea, too."

Rachel inhaled a shaky breath, accepting the warm cup with her right hand while reaching out with her left for the pregnancy test. It was digital, which made no sense considering she knew she'd have to pee on the device. Absently she couldn't help but wonder if there was a possibility of being electrocuted. There was no warning or safety information detailing such, instead the prominent callout being the clear, fast results. Apparently a happy face indicated pregnancy; Rachel thought that was a bit presumptuous of the manufacturer, though she wasn't quite sure what her feelings would be once she found out. She was terrified, obviously, but that was more because she hadn't expected any of this.

"All set."

Blaine and Rachel got back into the car after Rachel tipped each employee who worked on the inside handsomely, her eyes never leaving the small box until they pulled up to her apartment. Blaine followed her up as he was ordered to do, waiting outside the bathroom door while Rachel followed the directions. He grabbed the metronome from the top of Rachel's piano in the living room and set it for sixty beats per minute as soon as she walked out of the bathroom. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, but he guessed it had more to do with her anxious behavior than the test results. After all, he wasn't the father.

The two friends shared a look after the allotted two minutes passed, Rachel nodding her head when Blaine made a motion to go look at the test for her. She held her breath for what felt like an eternity, her eyes carefully evaluating him when he stepped out of the bathroom holding the small stick. He had a small smile on his face and unlike the test results, she wasn't sure if him smiling was a good thing or a bad thing.

"You don't have the flu," he responded cheerily, pivoting the stick in his fingers so the display screen was facing Rachel. Her eyes narrowed to better read the results, widening when she saw the smiley face staring back at her. "Congratulations?"

She exhaled shakily, her hands flying up to her face as the tears started to fall. It was an odd emotion coursing through her, one that rested somewhere between elated and crushed. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was the sentence that kept repeating in her head, but its meaning tiptoed the line between good and bad. It wasn't supposed to happen because it shouldn't have been so easy for her to get pregnant. But it also wasn't supposed to happen because she wasn't _ready _to be pregnant.

"Where's your phone? I'll call the doctor."

"No!" Rachel shouted, the sound deafening considering how quiet she'd been since he'd picked her up. She hiccupped, wiping away some of her tears and looking at him desperately. "You can't."

"Rachel, you can't deliver the kid yourself," Blaine reasoned. "You shouldn't have shit where you eat."

She knew it was an expression, but that didn't stop her stomach from turning inside her. She dashed past him on the way to the bathroom, slamming the door shut to drown out the sound of her throwing up yet again. Blaine rolled his eyes and dug inside her purse for her phone. He found the OBGYN contact in her address book and followed all the automated messages in order to speak with the on-call doctor. It was just barely nine in the evening, so Blaine didn't feel too bad when an older, gruff voice came through the receiver asking how he could help. Instead, he explained the situation as calmly and clearly as he could, securing Rachel an appointment tomorrow at ten in the morning.

Rachel exited the bathroom apprehensively, standing by the frame in case she had to run back toward the toilet. She'd heard Blaine talking to the doctor, making a mental note of the time even if she still wanted to have a reason to not go. Or a reason better than her not being strong enough to face him yet. It wasn't that she'd hide it from him forever; she just wasn't sure how to tell him something like this when she hadn't even seen him in a month and hadn't really talked to him in two months. How could she tell him this when she couldn't even bring herself to tell him everything else he deserved to know?

"They're going to squeeze you in tomorrow at ten."

"Thank you." Rachel stepped away from the doorframe slowly, going back to sit on the edge of her bed next to Blaine. She placed her face in her hands again, only this time she wasn't crying as much as she was just exhausted. Her mind was moving a mile a minute and her body was still reeling from her alleged sickness. It was early yet but she already knew she wouldn't sleep tonight no matter how badly she needed to.

"Want me to stay?" He asked gently, his hand running up and down her back soothingly.

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Just …" She closed her eyes tight, turning her head just a little to the left before opening them and looking at him. "Please don't tell Kurt. Not yet. I just … I can't … I need to deal with this first."

"I won't. I promise." Blaine understood, but he couldn't help but ask. "But, is this request specific to Kurt's tendency to turn a molehill into a mountain or because he happens to have certain family ties with a previous suitor?"

"The first," she answered softly, meeting his gaze. "I never slept with Finn."

Blaine nodded his head, accepting that answer since it was more than he deserved. "Well, that's good, right? No trip to _Jerry Springer_ or _Maury_ or whomever for a paternity test." She didn't even crack a smile. "Everything's going to be fine, Ray."

She nodded doubtfully, worry written all over her face. It wasn't the baby she was worried about. Rachel knew what she had to do there. She knew the choices that would have to be made and the sacrifices she'd have to make. She knew she could count on Blaine, Kurt and Mercedes to help her through everything. No, the baby stuff she could handle. It was the father that was causing her heart to race in anticipation – and only partially in the good way.

The two of them talked for a few more minutes, the conversation getting rather heavy before Kurt called to check up on Rachel. Blaine lied and said she was sleeping, letting himself out of the apartment while Rachel took a long, hot bath and then tried to go to bed. The whole time she thought about what her and Blaine had talked about, how this might not be the most conventional or best of circumstances, but perhaps it was an opportunity. She'd admittedly been upset since Puck severed all ties to her. Now there was tie between them that couldn't be broken.

But Rachel didn't want that to be the only string holding them together. She didn't want their child to be named 'Whoops' like Puck thought Sarah should have been. She didn't want to trap him with a pregnancy, and she knew a child was not enough of a reason for two people to be together. Rachel had plenty of other reasons she wanted to be with Puck, but he'd chose differently. Aside from that drunken night with the fight between him and Finn, Puck hadn't given Rachel any indication that he felt their separation was a mistake, and she refused to let their child be the reason he came back.

The next morning, after only an hour or two of sleep, Rachel freshened up as best she could. She ate some crackers like she saw women in movies and on television do, and it managed to stay down even though her stomach was already in knots. The air was heavy in her already constricting lungs as she walked from her apartment to the doctor's office, her breathing labored as she checked in and waited in the lobby. The nurse who called her name wasn't Santana, and she knew even before the older gentleman walked into the room that her file had been given to another doctor.

Rachel did her best to keep from crying as the doctor confirmed the pregnancy, mentally taking notes of everything he was saying even though all she could think about was how wrong Blaine had been. The only opportunity she got from this meeting was the reminder that Puck hadn't wanted to be in a relationship; and even though he'd made that painfully clear before it was downright obvious now. It was her fault for hoping otherwise, and after she'd talked to the doctor about the details of her pregnancy, she was headed to the checkout area with a handful of prenatal vitamins and a heart full of pain.

"Rachel?"

Her heart leapt into her throat, her feet forcing her body to turn around toward his voice. Her eyes closed for just a moment after landing on his form, unconsciously working to not well up with tears at just the sight of him. His white coat covered the intricacies of his frame, but Rachel knew them all too well. They were seared in her brain and she willed them away for just five minutes so she could talk to him without making a fool out of herself.

"Hello, Noah."

Her voice washed over him like the tide, soothing his rattling nerves with just those two simple words. His name never sounded better than coming off her tongue, and he'd missed it. He'd missed _her_, which he'd admit only to himself after her rejection the last time he'd said it. It was only a month ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

"H-how are you?" His eyes moved down to the bag in her hands, noticing she was holding it so tightly her knuckles were white. "Are you … OK?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm … fine." She nodded her head to make it seem more convincing. "How have you been?"

"Good." He watched her tongue swipe over her bottom lip, fixated on the pink muscle. "Great."

The desire to reach out and touch her was what was _great_. It wasn't just a want but a need, one that he knew had to be repressed for a lot of different reasons. For one, he was a doctor and she was a patient and they were standing in front of a receptionist who was watching their conversation like a tennis match. For another, he knew the second he laid his hands on her, he wouldn't stop. In fact, if there was ever evidence that one night with her wasn't enough, it was the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach right then when the two months of absolutely no contact hit him at once.

"And Sarah? Is she enjoying her summer?"

"Too much," he joked lightly, momentarily thinking of his sister - who would no doubt kill him if she knew he'd seen Rachel and didn't fix what he'd broken (as she put it). "In fact …"

"Ms. Berry!"

Rachel didn't turn when her name was called, instead willing Puck to finish whatever it was he was going to say. She'd only heard two words, but she could hear the promise in his tone, knew it was the beginning of an invitation. While she was still fairly certain it wasn't of the till death do us part variety, she could hear the nervousness and knew that it meant something. It wasn't casual.

Puck didn't get nervous. _Noah_ did.

"The doctor asked me to give this to you." Rachel sighed, eventually turning to face the persistent nurse when Puck's attention, too, moved to the older woman. "If your morning sickness gets worse, this prescription will help."

Rachel nodded her head minutely, letting the small slip of paper fall into the bag holding her prenatal vitamins while her eyes slowly moved back to Puck. His stare was like fire, boring into her like liquid magma despite how hard his expression was. She clutched the bag tighter, her mouth opening to explain but closing when he took a noticeable step back.

"So, you're pregnant." He said the word at least once a day and yet it felt completely foreign in his throat. It was scratchy and he didn't like the taste it left. He liked it more than the brief visual of Rachel and Finn _making_ a baby, though. Now _he_ felt sick. "Guess there was nothin' to be worried about, huh?"

"Noah …"

Rachel choked on her inhale as she watched him take another step back, so far away now that she couldn't reach out and touch him even if she'd wanted to. And she _did_ want to, at least she did before he'd transformed back to his more distant, guarded self. She again recalled the conversation she had with Blaine, about never regretting love. Blaine and Kurt's union wasn't exactly one of fairytales. It hadn't been love at first sight, and they weren't the type of couple who you envied because it seemed like they never fought or had to deal with anything bad. It would have been easier for Blaine to date someone from the agency or for Kurt to be with someone from the musical. But, instead, they'd made the choice to be together; it was a decision, something they had to work for, and it always seemed to keep them grounded enough to remember to be grateful for the opportunity.

Unfortunately, Rachel didn't have the same opportunity with Puck. They'd come together on the understanding that it wouldn't last forever, and he'd merely kept his end of the bargain. She couldn't blame him for what he'd done – though his methods weren't exactly humane – and she wasn't going to regret the time they'd spent together. She knew for a fact that she'd seen something special in Puck, and he'd in turn seen a piece of her that Rachel hadn't trusted anyone with ever before either. And, magically enough, those two sides had created a life against all the odds.

"Mazal Tov, I guess."

His words were rough, forced. She was familiar with this side, the one who kept everyone and everything at arm's length. Unfortunately, as he backed up a little more steadily in preparation for his exit, the distance between them emotionally was even more evident. She'd hoped that even if they couldn't go back to how things were before they might be able to move forward, but everything about him right then was telling her otherwise.

"Thanks," she mumbled loud enough that he could hear, his retreating form stopping for just a moment to turn back and look at her. He was further away than he'd been since the beginning of their conversation, and yet the color of his eyes and the emotion she saw swimming in them before he darted out of sight made him feel closer than ever. Slowly, she turned back to the receptionist and paid her co-pay, walking out of the office and back home thinking about her interaction with Puck. She knew what he assumed and knew she'd have to tell him the truth eventually, but for now – as crazy as it was – she only had one thought on her mind.

She hoped their son or daughter had his eyes.


	27. With All Due Respect

**Author's Note:** This chapter was challenging and I can't believe I finished it on time. My typical updating schedule might hit some speed bumps with these last chapters, because as you can see I have a lot of loose ends to tie up quickly and in just the right way. So, thank you so much for sticking by me and I hope you continue to enjoy where this story goes. You guys seriously rock and I love all the conversation - keep it coming!

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><p>Puck groaned outward, slamming his fist against his office desk in frustration. He'd been trying to do the last of his paperwork for the past two hours to no avail. Every time he psyched himself into finally concentrating, another stray thought would invade his brain and he'd spend the next five to twenty minutes thinking about it instead of the charts in front of him. He should have already been home by now, showered and changed and on his way to Bar Nine to meet Sam and Mike. Instead it was just past eight in the evening and he wasn't even halfway through his end-of-the-week work.<p>

It was all Rachel's fault. Rachel and that stupid ogre.

Puck didn't want to be envious of that giant prick, but how could he not be? Aside from the whole making out with Quinn thing, Finn had the life Puck wanted. The only difference was he'd realized it sooner. He'd capitalized on Puck's mistake, and now Finn and Rachel were going to be a family. And, God help him, part of him was happy for Rachel. He knew having a baby was something she wanted, and after his diagnosis he feared it was something she'd never get. It wasn't like it was his fault because he'd been her doctor, but ever since finding out all he'd wanted to do was to fix it.

_Him_. Not Finn.

He closed his eyes tight, trying to get his focus back before opening them and looking down at the chart. The words looked closer to Chinese than English considering his state of mind, but he managed to work through his insanity. He inputted a few things into his computer and signed off on the bottom and then moved the folder to the done pile. He'd been in his office for three hours – the first hour before he started on the paperwork was spent calling patients; he'd actually done a pretty good job with that task as long as no one counted the couple of times he slipped and had to ask the caller to repeat herself - and he'd just finished his fifth chart. His Friday couldn't possibly get worse.

"Hey, Puckerman."

"I take that back."

"What?" Santana asked, cocking one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows up in confusion. She checked for a Bluetooth device before concluding that he was crazy and not her. "You didn't say anything."

"What do you want, San?" He gestured to the large pile of folders he still had to get through. "I'm busy."

"I've wasted three hours of my life waiting for you to finish. Time's up." She sat primly in the chair across from his desk, leaning back and slowly crossing her legs. Normally she did it to be seductive; right then it was about prolonging the suspense. She opened up the chart she'd been holding slowly and perused the information again, a cat-like grin forming on her face before she looked at him from over the folder. "Remember how you told me that reading charts was part of my job?"

"I ain't goin' down for your screw up."

Santana rolled her eyes at his immediate retort. They'd already talked about certain limitations on those job requirements, in great detail as of recently. Apparently it wasn't professional or ethical for the nursing staff to scour the patients' charts to find the ugliest picture and then give a prize to the winning nurse. Granted it had been her idea, but she hadn't won so Santana felt that shouldn't be used against her – and that's precisely what she was going to explain should any of the directors ask to speak with her like they spoke to Puck.

"Well, we were a little slow come late afternoon and I was filing some charts away back in the stacks." He continued to look disinterested. "And I came across Rachel's file."

"So?" He breathed, trying not to let on how much just hearing her name had thrown him. Thanks to Santana it was going to take him at least another ten minutes after she left just to start working on his paperwork again.

"I think you should read it."

"I'm not her doctor anymore." His voice was soft, broken – very unlike Puck. He was like a wounded animal who wasn't even bothering to lick at his scars. He preferred just to bleed out until he died. "I'm not her anything anymore."

The wicked smile returned. "I wouldn't say that." Santana flipped the chart upside down and then tossed it toward him so it would land flat on his desk, right-side up so he could read it easily. "You, my good friend, are her baby daddy."

Puck blinked once, furrowed his brows, and then blinked again. Santana's expression refused to change, and he slowly leaned forward to inspect Rachel's chart. He scanned over the preliminary details of her pregnancy, noting the aggressive morning sickness with a frown. Above that was the timeline and the measurements – he would have thought the kid would be bigger even this early in the pregnancy given the father's mutant genes. On the opposite side was half a page of Rachel's information, and below that was the father's information. Puck knew the sheet well considering he'd written it up at least a hundred times, but he'd never seen it filled in with _his_ name.

"I can see my work here is done." Santana stood from the chair, walking out of his office without another word.

Puck wasn't sure how long he sat there reading Rachel's chart over and over again, but he knew it wasn't a short amount. His phone vibrated in his pocket at least five times and he almost knew without looking that two were from Mike, two were from Sam – both wondering if he was showing up tonight - and one was from Santana teasing him about whether he'd moved yet. He didn't check, though, and instead just kept reading the words in the folder in front of him. He was going to be a father. Rachel was pregnant with his kid. He and Rachel were going to be parents. Together.

This final thought finally pushed him away from his desk, his movements quick now that he had a destination. He'd been fooling himself into thinking he was going to get any work done tonight in the first place, and now he knew better. He wasn't going to get anything done until after he'd talked to her, and he wasn't just going to wait around, either. Puck was about action and, as he locked up the office and made his way down the streets of New York, for this situation that meant going straight to the source.

The musical would be half over by the time he got there, and absently he wondered if he'd ever see the first part. It was a strange thing to think about considering everything else that was on his mind at that particular moment, but he'd already proven earlier that his concentration levels weren't where they should be. Then again, how exactly was he expected to concentrate when the rug that he'd thought had been swept from under his feet was now lying on top of his stunned body?

As soon as he walked into the front lobby of the theater, he knew he'd missed his window of opportunity. The lights were dim and there were burly men - who Puck guessed would leave there at the end and then head to a nearby club to do a similar job - guarding the entrance doors. He'd snuck by one of the crewmembers the first time he'd come to the musical, but there was no need this time. Intermission was over and even from his spot in the lobby he could hear the woman's voice on stage wasn't Rachel's.

He'd heard it in almost every capacity, whether it was breathy or loud; sweet or bitter; sarcastic or vulnerable. She used a lot of words – and generally long ones, too – but it was her voice that really told the story. The different pitches or just the tonality said a lot more than her carefully constructed sentences. And while he'd only heard her sing the one time he'd actually seen the second half of the musical and again during a more light-hearted performance in the shower at her apartment before the water turned to ice, he could tell that the Belle on stage wasn't Rachel because he _knew_ her voice.

Not as well as he knew her body, but that was precisely the kind of thinking that would lead him nowhere.

It was also, unfortunately, the exact kind of thinking he hadn't been able to ignore all evening. Ever since she'd left the doctor's office, Puck hadn't stopped thinking about her. Seeing her had been unreal. It had been so long and his body _craved_ her. The urge to touch her was almost uncontrollable. It was scary; she had such a strong hold over him that it seemed unhealthy, especially considering he was supposed to be moving on, moving forward. But now he couldn't remember why. He'd told Mike that he didn't deserve her, but maybe he did now.

He at least deserved a chance.

Or _another_ chance, he clarified internally before taking a seat at one of the benches by the front doors. Puck thought about sending Rachel a text message, but he didn't want to have this conversation over the phone. For one, he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to say. It was partially the reason he wasn't bursting through the doors in the first place; his entire life had turned around on him rather quickly and he'd pulled a classic Puck by acting first and thinking later. The other part was the security, but he figured they wouldn't care if he slipped backstage once the musical was over.

And he had to wait for it to be over because there was still the question of where Rachel was to begin with. If she wasn't on stage, he seriously doubted she was in the building at all. If he was acting entirely impulsive, he would just leave and head right to her apartment. In fact, he might have been able to run there and come back, but for whatever reason he knew it would have been a waste of time. He'd seen Rachel this morning and he knew she hated to use her understudy. If she wasn't on stage right now, he had a feeling she wasn't even in the city. And maybe he was romanticizing how well he thought he knew her, but he did know who _would_ know, which was exactly who he started to search for once the musical ended.

"What up, Doc?"

Puck turned on a dime, coming face to face with a different friend of Rachel's than he'd been looking for but one who might be able to help just as well. Or she could if he could remember her name. He wracked his brain, sifting through not just random mentions from Rachel or that one meeting with her before he took Rachel to dinner but rather his knowledge of the black woman as a patient. She'd only visited the office once and she hadn't fallen for his charm, but that actually helped jog his memory.

"Mercedes," he responded triumphantly, trying to cover it up by rushing into his question. "I need to talk to Rachel."

"Boy, you said it."

He noted the tone, heard the mix of sarcasm, protectiveness, and humor. He was suddenly aware that of all the people he has met in relation to being with Rachel, he hadn't shared more than a few words with any of them. He could barely remember Mercedes' name, he'd given Kurt his name and only had a very vague familiarity with what he looked like, and he'd kicked the shit out of Finn. Rachel, on the other hand, hadn't just met his friends but she was on pretty good terms will all of them. She'd given tickets to both Mike and Sam, not to mention his mother and sister. Against his wishes, Sarah had gone to lunch with Rachel a couple of weeks ago, and his mom legit called her _before_ she called him after the drive back to Ohio to let Rachel know she'd arrived safely.

"Where is she?" He forced out, trying to swallow the sudden feelings of inadequacy. He'd have to deal with the realization that he was an asshole later.

"I ain't her master."

"I am."

Puck whipped around, this time eyeing the person for whom he had been originally looking. Kurt and Mercedes shared a look and then the plus-sized woman left without another word. Puck was a good two inches taller and at least thirty pounds (of muscle) heavier than Kurt, but the latter's expression shrunk Puck to half his size. It was like high school all over again, when girls would use him to get back at their parents; the fathers would always stare at him with an immense amount of hatred and judgment that Puck never felt was deserved … not until later, anyway.

"And I'm not telling."

"Kurt," he began rationally, keeping his temper in check, "I need to talk to her."

"I'm afraid that ship has sailed, Casanova." Kurt folded his arms across his chest, leaning back a little more heavily on one leg and trailing his eyes over Puck's frame. "If she'd wanted you to know where she went, she would have told you."

"I just saw her this morning," he pointed out. "She couldn't have gone far."

"You'd be surprised." Kurt pursed his lips together into a thin line, debating on one of two snappy comebacks. "Or maybe not. After all, you are quite the expert at disappearing."

Puck bowed his head, knowing he deserved that. He supposed he should get used to it since he was fairly certain if and when he talked to Rachel that they would have a similar discussion, but honestly he didn't know how to respond. It wasn't like he could deny it. He had bolted. He'd given her no indication that things were wrong, and he'd simply cut all contact until she got the hint. It wasn't the first time he'd done it, but it was definitely the first time he'd regretted it.

"I fucked up," he admitted.

"Damn right you did." Kurt's hard expression didn't change, but he made an effort not to scowl to avoid wrinkles. "And that was _before_ you beat the crap out of my brother for no reason."

Puck cringed a little. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"No you aren't." Kurt smiled a little when Puck shrugged in acceptance. Another man had been in Rachel's apartment when Puck had come to confess that he'd missed her. Kurt was pretty sure Puck would have beaten the snot out of Finn even without the added baggage of the whole Quinn situation. "But it doesn't matter. Rachel doesn't condone that type of violence as a substitute for chivalry. I, on the other hand, thought the whole thing was quite romantic."

"Thanks," Puck mumbled, not comfortable with the description in reference to himself nor did he particularly care for the way Kurt swooned after saying it. "I was pretty drunk."

"But you're sober now." Kurt evaluated him once more. "And presumably intending to make the same claim from that night."

It wasn't a question, but Puck nodded anyway. "Hopefully without the interruption this time."

"Is that your subtle way of asking if you can expect to run into Finn?" Kurt asked bemused, his teeth showing as his smile widened. "Because that was pathetic."

"Give me a fuckin' break, dude!" Puck ran a frustrated hand over his scalp, huffing out a breath before looking back up at Rachel's friend. "I don't … I just … I never …" He growled at his own behavior, clenching his fists at his sides. "If she's happy with the Finn guy, then whatever, I guess. But … I still need to talk to her."

Kurt could tell Puck knew about the baby, and much like Rachel believed, Kurt didn't think that was a good enough of a reason for them to be together. "So you talk to her. What's to say you won't freak out again?" Kurt hummed afterward to emphasize his question. "You couldn't even handle a silly boyfriend label. Now there's a bit more riding on this revelation and I can't just let you sweep her off her feet if you even _think_ you might drop her again." He jutted his index finger out, halting any rebuttal. "She has a life here, a happy one. She has support from her family and friends. We can take care of her."

"_I_ want to take care of her!" Puck's voice boomed in the space, his chest rising and falling heavily after Kurt had worked him up. His head was screaming at him to just punch the guy and call it a day, but everything else was fighting against that urge. Instead of fighting Kurt it felt like he was fighting for his life, desperately trying to fix everything - and that included himself.

Kurt looked at him for a long moment, his head tilting to one side as he watched Puck shift uncomfortably from his left foot to his right. He didn't know Puck all that well, but he could hear how much it killed him just to say that previous sentence, and that actually pleased Kurt. He didn't have anything against Puck. For awhile there, Puck was the reason Kurt had seen Rachel happier than she'd ever been before. And now, even though he was the reason she was so terribly sad, Puck was the one who could fix it all. And that's all Kurt cared about. Rachel.

"Do you love her?"

Puck coughed and straightened his posture, his eyes shutting tight and his insides screaming at him. Kurt's question echoed in his mind loudly, though, stirring up those dueling forces for before. They'd never left, and he had accepted they probably never would. People didn't change, and that part of him that was used to all the girls and getting wasted and being stupid would _always _be there. But that other part, the one that had initially convinced him to keep seeing Rachel and the side that had formed the capacity to feel jealousy and a handful of other emotions he'd never experienced until her was also there. It was still scary and unfamiliar sometimes (a lot of the time), but despite his best efforts it wasn't going anywhere either.

The trick was figuring out how to balance the two. Mike had said that maybe Puck needed to figure out who he was, but the real problem was he had to figure out who he _wanted to be_. Because who he was wasn't a choice. He was Puck. He was the guy who'd got a damn doctorate because he was that lazy (_efficient_) about meeting new chicks. He loved pulled pork sandwiches and made up for it by volunteering every week with a group of Jewish kids. He'd always try to handle a situation with sex before resorting to talking. But, who he wanted to be was completely his decision.

And the only thing he knew he wanted to be was with Rachel.

"Yes."

Kurt held in his squeal of joy but still clapped his hands together happily. Puck groaned, looking around to see how many people might have seen him standing too close to such a gay moment. And Kurt let him look around because, frankly, Puck was outnumbered. They were backstage at a major Broadway musical. Puck didn't even know how _gay_ things could get.

"She's not with Finn."

"Well where is she?" Puck asked evenly, filing that information somewhere under _fuck yeah!_ before getting back to the issue at hand.

"Ohio."

Puck growled. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

"I'm from Ohio. There's nothing funny about it." Kurt rolled his eyes. "She's spending the weekend with her fathers."

For all his recent introspection and all the obvious reasons he needed to talk to her, Puck actually reconsidered his original urgency. It wasn't like Rachel wasn't still going to be pregnant with his child when she came back. And, to Kurt's point, if she'd wanted to talk to him, she would have told Puck where she was going. Plus, it was a long ass plane ride to a relatively unknown destination where, when he got there, he'd again not know what to say.

"Well, this shit all started in Ohio. I 'spose it should end there."

"With all due respect, I'm pretty sure it started way before then."

Puck again stiffened out of reflex, but then felt himself relax when Kurt didn't appear to be judging him, but rather just stating a fact. It reminded him of what his sister had said a couple of weeks ago at the Fourth of July party. He'd asked Rachel to put on a show for his mom and then at the graduation party, but Sarah was right; they'd been lying to themselves for awhile before that trip. Now Kurt was calling him out for the same thing.

"Well, with all due respect," Puck used air quotes just to be a dick. "It ain't gonna end there either."


	28. Late Night Confessional

**Author's Note:** I honestly don't know how I wrote this chapter so fast, but I did and I can't wait to share it. There's not a lot going on and nothing in it will be shocking at all, but I love the honesty of it all and I hope you enjoy it. I cannot thank y'all enough for your reviews but I'm going to do my best to make them all worth your while by kicking ass on these last few chapters. Thanks so much and let me know what you think!

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><p>Rachel tiptoed down the stairs of her childhood home, not a light on in the house but her memory of the layout enough to guide her in the correct direction safely. She knew to avoid the squeaky plank about a foot away from the bottom of the stairwell and to sidestep the one recliner in the living room. It was all so familiar and precisely why she wanted to come home in the first place. She needed to be in a place where everything made sense. That way she could really focus on her life and fix everything that clearly <em>wasn't<em> making sense.

She forewent turning on the kitchen light and instead padded to the refrigerator. She wasn't particularly hungry, but the doctor had told her eating something small regularly would help with her morning sickness and Rachel followed orders. She grabbed the container of organic, lactose-free chocolate milk and kicked the door closed softly as she moved to the cupboard to the right to grab a small glass. She poured a small amount of the beverage into the cup and then replaced the milk, grabbing the bowl of cherries from the middle shelf before letting the door close again and making her way to the high-top island in the center of the room.

"You'll need this."

Rachel looked behind her to see her father, Leroy, shuffling into the kitchen in his robe holding a napkin out to her. She smiled graciously at the gesture, but also at the wave of familiarity that washed over her. Leroy was a known snacker, and the carnivore of the family, too. He'd scour the kitchen late at night, usually ending up eating a club sandwich or some other dish Rachel and Hiram wouldn't approve of before going back upstairs, brushing his teeth, and going to bed. In the morning, no one would mention it, and Leroy wouldn't even grimace when his partner or daughter forced him to eat something insanely healthy.

"Let's share," she said with a smile, surprised when he picked the fruit over meat. Then again, she was old enough now and been gone long enough that even Rachel figured he was picking the bonding moment with her over arguing about the unfair treatment of animals. It was actually really sweet, and reminded her of Noah a little. After he'd found out Rachel was a vegan, he seemed to try to hide the fact that he wasn't.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?"

The concern in his voice warmed her heart, and she briefly thought back to the conversation they'd had earlier. Her fathers had obviously known something was afoot when she called them out of the blue earlier in the day and told them she was flying in. However, even Rachel knew they couldn't have expected _everything_ they'd ended up talking about to come out of her mouth. But Rachel had always been very close with her parents, and their opinion as well as their support was important to her. She needed them to help her through this, and they didn't hesitate in doing just that.

"Good," she answered brightly after spitting out a cherry pit onto the napkin. She chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds, swallowing the piece of fruit with a shrug. "Better."

Leroy's eyes flicked to Rachel's nonexistent baby bump, a small smile slipping onto his face. "I can't believe my baby girl is going to have a baby." He dropped the cherry he had grabbed from the bowl, reaching his hand further so it rested on her forearm. "You'll be a wonderful mother, dear."

"Thank you, Daddy."

Rachel could tell he was being genuine, but she honestly wasn't sure if she believed him. She'd always been good with children, but she'd never been entirely _responsible_ for one. And considering everything that had happened in the past three months, she wasn't sure responsible was the best adjective to describe her in the first place. A responsible person wouldn't have engaged in a casual relationship with a stranger. She wouldn't have had unprotected sex on the notion that it wouldn't matter (or on the notion that nothing mattered at that moment except him). She wouldn't have used another man to make her feel better when the first man had broken her heart. And she wouldn't have withheld the truth from that man simply because she was scared he'd find a new way to hurt her.

How could she be a good mother when it was debatable whether or not she was a good person?

"What are you two doing up?" Hiram whispered, breezing into the kitchen with half-closed eyes.

All three of them were whispering and it made no sense considering now the entire house was awake, but something about the darkness provoked quieter conversation. There hadn't necessarily been any screaming over dinner or afterward, either though. The discussion had been honest and encouraging, intermixed with a movie and a board game to keep things light. If it hadn't been for all the serious topics, Rachel could have closed her eyes and felt like she was a little girl all over again.

"I think you and I both know what Father was planning on doing," Rachel joked lightly, winking at Leroy. "And, personally, I'm always up this late."

Hiram bobbed his head in understanding, taking the last available stool and pulling the bowl of cherries closer. "I imagine that rush of emotions after performing probably does make it hard to sleep afterward, huh?"

Rachel nodded, moving the napkin closer to the middle. Her eyes moved to the left to note the time on the oven, and she frowned when she saw that the musical would have wrapped up almost two hours ago. She wondered how Erin did or if anyone had been disappointed that she hadn't been there. Her phone was upstairs charging after it had died sometime after dinner, so she didn't even know if Kurt of Mercedes had tried to contact her about anything.

"Is that something you're really ready to give up, hun?"

Rachel turned to Leroy, quickly recalling the part of the evening where she'd told them all about Scott Davidson's offer and how, with the baby coming, she figured it would be the best option for her. After all, Belle was not pregnant and the musical's schedule alone wouldn't be easy in the later months. If she were to accept Scott's offer, she'd be able to work on her own time. It was about the creative process and the groundwork of a musical, which even though Rachel craved the spotlight she actually thought she'd enjoy.

"I feel like it's time for me to move on," she answered softly, trying to shake the way the words might have fit in a lot of different avenues of her life and just focus on her career. "You know how involved I was in creating original music in high school and college, and this will be a real opportunity to explore that professionally. I'm going to meet with Scott next week, but it sounds extremely exciting and I'm looking forward to it."

"Are you sure?" Hiram asked. "I love you, honey, but you tend to put a happy face on for your father and me, and I don't want this to be about that."

"Your happiness is what matters most to us," Leroy added.

Rachel inhaled a shaky breath, nodding her head. She knew her fathers wouldn't judge her. Those close to her and knew why she was leaving would understand. But everyone else, others in the industry and the media, they would more than likely call her selfish or question her loyalty. To come off the Tony win and almost immediately make the decision to leave the musical was not going to look good regardless of the reason, and Rachel just hoped she'd be able to explain the situation to the director and the cast civilly.

"I know. And I'm not denying that it will be difficult to leave. I love performing and I'm sure I'll find my way back to it eventually, but I need to do something else." Her voice was quiet. "Everything about the show reminds me of Noah and I can't move on if that is the case."

Leroy and Hiram shared a concerned look, Leroy speaking up first. "But is that what you want? To … forget what you two shared?"

Rachel knitted her eyebrows together, using the excuse of finishing her drink to think about her answer. They say that time heals all wounds, but it had been two months since her and Noah had been in that blissfully ambiguous bubble and everything about her just wished they could go back in time. It was a strong feeling, stronger than anything she'd ever felt, and it made all the anger she felt earlier and the awkwardness she felt this morning not matter. The only thing that mattered now was their child, and he or she was precisely the reason she could never really forget anything they shared.

"It's not that simple," she finally stated.

"Were things simpler when you told us he was gay?"

Rachel blushed, not just because she'd had to admit that lie but also because she remembered the time frame both in specific relation to that day and also everything before and after it. They hadn't been together long – or at all, if you were caught up on labels – but it had been simple. Seamless, even. They were two completely different people, but their differences seemed to balance the other person. And, sure, they bickered and butted heads, but it was less because they didn't get along and more because they were both passionate, stubborn people.

"It certainly _would_ be," she answered honestly, her head dropping slightly. "I just … It hardly seems fair for me to still feel this way when … when I can't even pinpoint exactly when these feelings started."

"That's the funny thing about love," Leroy shook his head, a bemused expression on his face as he stood up grabbed the cherry bowl. No one had been eating from it for awhile and he, as well as being the late-night snacker, was also the compulsive cleaner of the house. "It's not logical at all; you can argue every side, which is frustrating as a lawyer." He grinned, putting away the bowl and then reaching to crumple the napkin and toss it in the trash. "Every side is going to be right, so the decision has to be based entirely on emotions."

Rachel understood what her father meant, and even what he wasn't saying. They'd already talked in great length about the situation with Noah and the baby. And while Leroy and Hiram not to mention Kurt and Mercedes were there for support and encouragement, the decisions were up to Rachel. She was the only one who could choose her path because she was the only one who was really emotionally invested. It was her heart at stake, not theirs.

"I just _know_ he's only going to have one of two reactions and neither is what I want." She shook her head, strength in her voice for the first time since she sat down. "Not for me, and not for my child."

"Your and Noah's child," Leroy reminded carefully.

"Yes," she squeaked out, her voice cracking as her emotions took over. She blamed the pregnancy hormones because she figured she was at liberty to do that for the next seven months without question. "I can't watch him walk away again, and I _refuse_ to trap him."

"Sweetie," Hiram began gently, his arm immediately reaching up to rest across her shoulders so he could cradle his daughter. "If everything you've told us is true, then I honestly doubt he feels that way. He came to you heartbroken once, and …"

"He wasn't heartbroken," Rachel clarified quickly, a light scoff echoing in the room. "He just missed me. He missed …"

Rachel trailed off, a blush rising on her cheeks. She was comfortable with her parents, but that was a topic she tried to avoid with all parties not involved. Obviously her fathers knew Rachel and Noah had sex because that's how babies are made, but she still didn't want to discuss the details. She'd rather them just assume everything had been completely traditional in the sense of the courtship and resulting relationship.

"I still think you owe it not just to him but to yourself to have an honest conversation." Leroy rested his elbows on the island top, leaning his weight into the surface. "You know you haven't been entirely forthcoming with your feelings, and given everything you've told us about Noah it sounds like he would be the type to be even less so."

"Your father is right. You need to talk to him."

Rachel sighed, feeling the weight of their words rest on her shoulders along with all the other emotional baggage she was caring. She was usually up this late because of the show, but that didn't change the fact that she was exhausted. Apparently that was something else she could blame on the pregnancy, but she knew better. After the flight from New York paired with the revealing dinner conversation and then this discussion, the late hour was just _another_ reason for her to want to crawl under the covers and sleep for a few years.

"I know it's hard, baby girl," Hiram consoled when Rachel slumped a little more in his arm.

"You know, your father and my union wasn't always easy, either." Leroy extended his hand out on the cool surface, waiting for Rachel to accept the comforting gesture. "It _isn't_ always easy, but back when we were dating, before we got married, you father and I actually broke up."

Rachel's eyes widened, a tear springing free as a result of the quick motion. She looked to her right at Hiram, pleased to see nothing but love shining in his eyes when he looked at his partner. She turned her attention back to Leroy, waiting patiently for the story.

"Hiram was my first real boyfriend, as I spent a lot of my life denying who I really was. I was struggling with the lifestyle and the stigma and, as you know, my parents didn't approve." Even after all these years, he couldn't hide the pain in his voice after such a statement. "It was a lot to take and I just started working at the firm. And, well, you know your father."

Leroy smirked at his partner, who in turn just rolled his eyes. "He's a lot like you in that he's always known exactly what he wants." Rachel grinned, liking that she was like her father when, obviously, she was adopted. "It was scary; I felt like I was always two steps behind."

Rachel frowned in response. She was a planner and someone who liked to be prepared for anything that might come – months ahead of time. But she'd reined that back with Noah. She'd let them be the one thing she didn't control, and simply went with the flow. And the flow, arguably, had gotten her into quite a mess, but then again she didn't necessarily regret what had happened. She just regretted that it ended.

"How did you work it out?" She finally asked.

Hiram smiled lovingly and extended his arm out toward Leroy in the same fashion the latter had done to Rachel. Their hands clasped together and Hiram gave a little squeeze before answering, "I told him we could be our own family."

"And I realized neither of us were capable of moving forward without the other by our side."

It was extremely romantic and was the perfect blend of their two personalities, but Rachel couldn't help but frown. "That's wonderful, Father, but Noah is never going to come to that same conclusion."

"Sometimes people like Noah and myself just need to know we won't lose everything if we make a mistake."

Rachel smiled softly, thinking Noah did remind her of her father in some ways.

"But you won't know any of that unless you talk to him."

She nodded her head, accepting Leroy's squeeze of her hand and Hiram's similar gesture on her shoulder before climbing off the high stool. She kissed her dad on the cheek, tilting her head toward the stairwell to indicate she was finally going to go to bed. It had been a long day followed by a long night, and now she really needed a long, long nap. Her fathers had a company picnic tomorrow that she'd already told them she wouldn't crash, so that meant if she wanted to spend time with them at all it would have to be in the morning.

With her foot poised on the first step, there was a loud knock at the door that startled her considering she was only two feet from the noise. Her eyes traveled through the living room to her fathers, who were struck still beside one another in the dining room. It was nearing one in the morning and they didn't exactly live in a neighborhood where rebellious kids would pull pranks nor did they have frequent late-night visitors. But, figuring a burglar wouldn't knock, Rachel took the step back down the one stair and approached the large wood door.

She lifted onto her tiptoes so she could see through the peephole, and gasped loudly when she saw the faint outline of a very familiar face. His head jerked up and for a second it seemed like he was looking right at her. She gasped again, dropping her heels to the ground and spinning around to face her fathers. Her breathing was erratic and they took a couple of forward steps while asking who was at the door.

"It's …" she trailed off, half terrified and half shocked. Honestly, she would have preferred the polite criminal. "It's Noah."


	29. Ignoring Logic and Leaving Promises

**Author's Note:** I won't ramble for long because I know you are all dying for this chapter. Must give a quick shout out to Jann for helping me polish the ending, and then another "YOU ROCK" to everyone reading and reviewing. Also, I am actually going to hit 500 reviews (likely) ahead of schedule, which freakin' blows my mind. More to come on what I plan to do about that later, though. For now, please read and review! Thanks!

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><p>Puck knocked on the door again, this time harder now that he knew he wasn't disturbing her sleep. He hadn't really cared before, obviously seeing as how he was standing in front of the door to her childhood home; he'd navigated the small town outside of Cincinnati completely in the dark and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be rewarded for that effort. Not to mention all the effort it took him to get on a plane that was basically taking off when he arrived at the airport in New York as well as the emotional effort it took not just to convince Kurt to tell him where Rachel was but that of which he used to convince <em>himself<em> that he could do this.

"Come on, Berry. I heard you." He pounded on the door again with the heel of his hand. "Open up."

Rachel used both her hands to cover her mouth, as if she could halt the noise she'd made almost two minutes ago or the one a minute later. Her eyes again moved to her fathers, who had stopped together behind the couch in the living room, wide smiles on both of their faces. They eagerly nodded their heads toward the door, clear in their request for her to face the music so to speak and talk to Puck. After all, opportunity was _literally_ knocking.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice a mix of shock and harshness. She ignored her fathers' disapproving frowns at the latter, though, instead focused on the extreme case of déjà vu she felt. If Finn had been in the room instead of her fathers, it would have been eerily similar.

"I came to see you."

Except, this time, Puck wasn't drunk. He wasn't really making sense, either, but he wasn't a rambling mess like last time. "How did you even know where to find me?"

Puck sagged his head, leaning more of his weight on his two arms braced on the doorframe. Clearly they were going to have this conversation with the door between them. It seemed fitting, actually – almost metaphoric. He'd been the one to shut the door on everything and now it was her who had the decision about whether she'd open it again or not. If she did, he wouldn't hesitate to burst through it. And press her against it … but that was more of a literal interpretation.

"I think your friend Kurt has the hots for me."

Rachel rolled her eyes, not necessarily dismissing the idea but too focused on how her best friend had obviously ratted her out. Now she _wanted_ to see her phone just to see if he'd given her any warning that Puck was on his way to her house. Knowing Kurt and his inability to consider the consequences when it came to grand romantic gestures, he was probably waiting by _his_ phone to hear the outcome of his meddling from _her_. Traitor.

"I ain't leavin' until we talk about this."

The way he said _this_ made her stomach sink. He knew. And Kurt might have given up her location, but she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't have told Puck anything about the baby. For a gossip queen he was actually pretty good about keeping secrets as long as you explained to him how important it was to keep certain things quiet – and bribed him. He accepted both chocolate and future entitlement to privy information equally.

"So much for doctor/patient confidentiality," she mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

"No such thing as nurse/patient confidentiality, babe."

Rachel scoffed, finding her fathers eyes across the room again. They were each smiling until she looked at them more pointedly. They then shrugged, entering their official review as attorneys in favor of the defendant. She frowned, not knowing Santana well but prepared to give the Latina a long talking-to the next time they crossed paths.

"'Sides, this ain't the first time I had to frantically do that kind of math." He shrugged. "We fucked so much I'm legit surprised you just got one in there."

Rachel's eyes widened, her breath hitching while her head snapped up to look straight ahead to avoid her fathers' stare from the side. She gripped the doorknob tightly and turned around, scrambling to unlock the door before Puck said anything else completely horrifying. She swung the door open, immediately taking a step back when Puck crossed the threshold quickly. His face was a lot calmer than hers, at least until he saw her fathers in his periphery and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh." He clenched his fists at his sides, figuring that was par for course. "Hey."

"Hello," Leroy managed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm Rachel's father Leroy and this is her dad Hiram."

Puck nodded, figuring the fake formality of crossing the room and shaking their hands went out the window somewhere between his previous two sentences. Some first impression. Puck went from being gay to being a sleazebag in about twenty seconds. He flicked a glance at Rachel only to see her still clutching the door handle like a lifeline, her eyes wide and her cheeks tinged red with embarrassment.

"We were just heading up to bed," Leroy stated, silently checking with his daughter to see if she wanted him to escort the young man out or if she wanted to be left alone. She was still stuck in a deer-in-headlights expression, but considering everything he figured it was the latter.

Hiram made a spectacle of appearing tired, yawning loudly and stretching his arms wide to his sides. It was completely unnecessary given the hour and their age – of course they would be tired – but the group seemed to appreciate the gesture. "Well, goodnight."

Rachel accepted each of their soft kisses on her cheeks when they passed on their way up the stairs. She waited until she heard the footsteps lead all the way to their bedroom, knowing much like Kurt that Hiram had an ear for gossip. When she heard the door shut, she finally looked up at Puck, letting a small smile slip that she could feel looked more like a grimace. Slowly she shut the door, gesturing with her other hand toward the living room in invitation for him to sit.

He didn't move.

"How long were you gonna keep it from me?"

She flinched at his words, shaking her head immediately in response. "I wasn't keeping it from you."

"You let me think it was the ogre's."

She wringed her hands in front of her, her eyes watching the motion intently just to ignore his intense stare. He was close enough that she could reach out and touch him, and again that urge consumed her so strongly that it was nearly impossible to ignore. She could feel the heat radiating off his body and all she wanted was to feel it pressed up against her. His touch stirred so many emotions inside her – comfort, security, desire – and she wasn't sure how she managed to live so long without it.

"I never slept with Finn."

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that?" Again he filed that information under the _fuck yeah! _category, but it wasn't enough to end the conversation. "Last I saw, he was glidin' through your place like he owned it. Like he _lived_ there or some shit."

"We were friends. We _are_ friends." She furrowed her brows, resting her hands on her hips. "He knew my apartment because when he was there he didn't only care about the bedroom. He cared about _me_."

Puck scoffed at her explanation, mirroring her defensive stance. Unless Finn was gay like his brother, then he cared about the bedroom he just hadn't gotten the chance to prove it. And for her to insinuate that Puck didn't care about her, well that really pissed him off. Would he have been there if he didn't care? No.

"But you're right," she breathed out, her hands falling to her sides. "I should have told you sooner. Granted, I only realized last night and had it confirmed this morning, but … you had every right to know." She shifted her feet uncomfortably, her head down as she mumbled, "I just don't want you to feel obligated to me."

The tears threatened to fall and she again decided to blame the hormones. It had nothing to do with the fact that the man who she'd unknowingly given her heart to was standing right in front of her, poised to either cradle the vulnerable organ safely or toss it to the ground like a piece of trash. It was a powerful form of control that Rachel was helpless against, and she wasn't even sure if he knew he possessed it.

"You made your expectations perfectly clear. It was me … I …. you don't owe me anything, Noah." She managed to look up at him for approximately three seconds, her gaze falling back down nervously. "It was my fault."

He wasn't sure exactly what she was talking about, whether she meant the unexpected pregnancy or the unexpected feelings. It takes two to tango, as they say, and he'd certainly given her just cause to think things between them were more than what they'd started out to be. His signals were mixed at best; even now he was fighting with himself on how much to reveal to her. He'd only just started learning how to walk the fine line between pussy and sensitive and sometimes the line was blurry even up close.

"I already have everything figured out, and you're more than happy to be as involved as you want to be, but …" she trailed off, biting her lip and focusing now on her feet. "I only want you to do what you're comfortable with. No catch."

"You mean no trap?" He growled.

She winced at his tone, shaking her head in response. "I'm not suggesting you are anything like your father, Noah, but you'll have to forgive me for assuming this wasn't what you signed up for when we first … met."

He managed to smirk, amused by her tact even in a private and utterly fucked up conversation. And he knew he couldn't fault her thought process. He'd pretty much proven her fears when he'd bailed on her in the first place. But that's not why he was here. Her being pregnant wasn't why he wanted to be with her. He actually couldn't even put into words why her particularly brand of crazy seemed to drive him wild, but it did.

"I sure as shit ain't my dad," he repeated her words in his own way, then pressed on to the somewhat sloppy thought he'd come up with during the haze of the flight and car ride to her house. "I'm not the beast and I ain't the prince, either." He took a step toward her, knocking her chin up gently with his index finger while his other hand curled around her hip so she couldn't go anywhere. "I'm the guy you thought I was."

Puck blew out a heavy breath, his heart racing as the words spilled out. "With you, I'm Noah. And … it's someone I've never been to anyone else and someone I didn't really knew existed until you forced him out of me and …"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by Rachel's resulting embrace, her lips crashing against his. It wasn't logical and there were a million reasons to argue that it was impulsive and undeserving, but she didn't care. The emotional side of her had been in knots for the past two months and it all unraveled as Puck finally opened up to her. She couldn't take a single second longer of his hands on her without her initiating some sort of contact of her own. She opened her mouth invitingly, moaning softly when he thrust his tongue into the moist cavern.

If that was how she reacted to a little bit of emotional truth, then Puck was legit going to consider being a lot more honest in the future. His fingers sunk deeply into the soft skin of the side of her lower back, his other hand tangled in the tousled strands of her long chestnut hair. He pulled on the ends to force her head back, moving his lips from her mouth down her neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin of her collarbone and then over to the other side of her neck, probing her pulse point with his tongue before coming back to her mouth again.

Rachel's hands were lost underneath the undershirt hidden below his dress shirt, Puck not even sure when she'd untucked the garment but not really caring. Her touch was like fire and ice at the same time, somehow causing him to shiver and burn from the inside simultaneously. She urged him closer, Puck stepping between her legs and pushing her back against the wall. Her shoulder bumped into a picture frame at the bottom of the stairwell, the decoration wobbling a little on the hardware before falling from the wall and landing on the ground with a crack.

Even though she heard the glass break and knew they should clean it up, logic again went out the window when Puck scooped her off the ground and pressed her harder into the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands came to settle on his neck, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks while he continued to kiss her jaw and neck as she tried to catch her breath. Her room was upstairs and even though it wasn't the same situation, Rachel was reminded of the feeling she had when her and Puck were visiting his family. She felt like a teenager all over again, trying to sneak some alone time with her boyfriend without her dads hearing.

"Guest room," she stated breathlessly, using her back to push off the wall so he'd know the general direction. It wasn't the most thought out plan; she'd hoped with the layout of the rooms that the extra floor would provide some more privacy, but after all the fumbling and banging against walls they did on the way she'd be surprised if the _neighbors_ were still asleep. The broken picture frame was one thing, but she was pretty sure they knocked over a vase in the hallway before they finally stumbled inside the guest bedroom.

Puck plopped Rachel down onto the soft mattress of the bed, shrugging off his dress shirt and then tossing his undershirt across the room before covering her body with his own. He'd spent too long not touching her and kissing her, so he now knew better than to waste even a moment. He settled between her legs, bracing himself on his forearms and capturing her lips once again with his. Rachel bit his lip to tug his mouth open, sliding her tongue languidly across his once he complied with her wishes. She explored the expanse of his torso with slow, methodical strokes, then moved to the contours of his back in the same patient fashion. It was like she was trying to memorize the feel of him, and while it felt extremely good he pulled back and waited until her eyes fluttered open and focused on him.

"I ain't goin' anywhere, B."

She blinked rapidly, the clouds of lust breaking just enough that he could see the pain hiding behind the chocolate orbs. Her breathing was labored and her lips were swollen, but he could see past it all and see how vulnerable she was. She bit the corner of her lip and finally lifted her eyes open all the way, staring back at him with an equal amount of intensity.

"Promise?"

Rachel hated being _that_ girl. She wasn't needy and she certainly could take care of herself. She'd been doing it for the past ten-plus years and she'd never needed a _man_ to fix anything about her life. But she didn't necessarily want Puck to _fix_ anything. She just wanted him be there with her through it. Then maybe they could fix it all together.

Puck moved his hand from tracing absent patterns on the bare skin of her thigh to lift up and caress her face. He moved a few wayward strands of her hair away from her face, one finger brushing over her forehead before curling around her ear. With the hair secure, there was nothing obstructing his view of her deep brown eyes, and he found himself getting lost in them like he never had before. It seemed like a total chick thing, but her soulful expression paired with her soft words really struck a chord with him. Right then, there were no dueling forces, no pride getting in the way, no arrogance or self-preservation.

The only thing that mattered was her.

"Promise," he whispered huskily, leaning back down to kiss her slowly. His one hand trailed down her bare arm, fingering the hem of her loose tank top only long enough to get enough of a grip that he could lift it off her torso and toss it to the floor. He immediately suctioned his lips to the newly exposed skin, sucking on the subtle mounds of her breasts while his hand moved down her lithe frame. His tongue swirled around her nipples and then trailed lower, dipping into her bellybutton before he pulled back, taking her tiny pajama shorts along with him.

Rachel breathed out shakily, watching his every move with half-closed eyes. She worried her lip between her teeth while he scooted off the bed, unbuckling his belt and undoing the button and zipper of his slacks. As the garment fell to the ground, Rachel sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, kneeling on the mattress in front of him. She pressed her lips to Puck's chest, alternating between licking and nipping at the warm, muscular skin. His hands tangled in her hair again while hers moved to the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down enough that they, too, pooled at his feet.

Her hands immediately teased his prominent erection, her thumb swiping over the sensitive tip as the other fingers curled around the shaft. She pumped her hand a few times with purpose, squeezing him a little harder than intended when she felt his hand cup her most private area. His lips attached themselves to her left shoulder, a groan echoing in the room when he slid a finger across her slick heat. She was fairly certain it was from him, but she couldn't say for sure after he softly bit the area where her neck and shoulder met and then pushed her back to the mattress, the earlier urgency back in his movements.

"I have a condom," he said, his voice rough.

Rachel knew why he'd said it. He wasn't worried about getting her pregnant; he was a doctor, after all. But they had been apart for two months and even though she'd admitted to not reaching such an intimate level with Finn, he hadn't given her the same assurance. Considering his past, he could have had as many as sixty new partners, and that was assuming he had the decency to limit himself to one a day. But, for whatever reason, Rachel knew he hadn't done that. She trusted him, which may or may not have been another example of how logic wasn't always used or needed in matters of the heart.

"We don't need one."

Puck smirked, placing a hot kiss on her lips as he settled deeper between her legs. "That's what you said last time."

Her giggle reverberated through his body as he sunk inside of her. The laughter was replaced by a breathy gasp, the hands that had been tickling his sides pressing flat into his skin, tense for a moment as she adjusted to the feel of him filling her. It took a lot of self-control and way more willpower than should be necessary considering his age and experience, but he refused to move until her eyes opened back up. She searched him thoughtfully, her eyes darting across his face for a subtle indication that something was wrong.

She wouldn't find it, though. Not this time.

"I love you."

Rachel's eyes widened in half disbelief and half adoration, water building up behind her eyeballs. Back in Lima when he'd quietly confessed his slight admiration for her, it had felt forced. Not by her, per say, but just difficult for him to say. He'd avoided eye contact to begin with and then basically ignored the whole thing directly after. Now, though, he was looking right at her – almost _through_ her, like he was looking past her and into her soul. His voice didn't quiver or break. He sounded sure, genuine. Real.

So Noah.

"I love you, too," she whispered, her hands sliding across his shoulders and up his neck to cradle his jaw and pull him into a searing kiss. It propelled him forward enough that he sank deeper into her and she couldn't help the slow moan that escaped. She felt his grin against her lips and managed to roll her eyes even as they were closed. His arrogance quickly took over, torturing her with calculated movements and soft, encouraging words spoken right against her ear. Honestly, she loved Noah, but there were definitely some benefits to Puck.

He could feel his resolve breaking with each additional thrust, her quiet whimpers and clutching hands pushing him closer and closer to the edge. It had been way too long since he'd been with her like this, and he had been so legit fucked up that he hadn't even tried to take care of himself in the interim. Now all the sexual energy was coursing through his veins and even though he never wanted this moment to end he knew it couldn't last forever. She was rolling her hips into his in a perfect rhythm and the only thing he could do was reach between them and tease her clit to hopefully bring her just as close to the grand finale as he was.

Rachel withered underneath him, her eyes closing tight as the powerful rush of emotions catapulted through her system. The sex was enough, but the thoughts that came along with it were too much. On the one hand she felt like they were in high school, but on the other hand she'd never felt more grown up than at that moment. Her and Puck weren't just fooling around or filling a need. It wasn't a casual relationship with no strings attached.

They were in love and were going to be parents.

It was enough to take her breath away, but the oxygen rushed out of her a second later when he rocked his hips into hers a little more deliberately. Her back arched up, pressing against his chest in such a tantalizing way that it was the last straw. Puck covered her mouth with his own, quieting her loud cry of ecstasy and kissing her passionately as he rode her orgasm into his own. He grunted into one final powerful thrust before collapsing on top of her, Rachel holding him tightly to her just in case he even thought about leaving.

She really, _really_ hoped he wasn't thinking about leaving.


	30. Anything But Casual

**Author's Note:** So here's the end. The last chapter (before the epilogue). Aside from giving a huge shout out to Jann for being a wonderful sounding board, I have to say thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. AND, to show my appreciation for y'all's dedication and to celebrate the fact that I actually reached 500 reviews, I've decided to throw out a sweeping prize. So, listen up if you are interested.

If you leave a prompt (whether it be just a story idea or a song title or word association or an object or ... WHATEVER) in your review (or PM me), I MIGHT write a oneshot for it. It all depends on me having the time to do so, and you know, me liking the prompt. It must be Puckleberry and I will not do slash of any kind, but I'm fairly certain those are the only limitations I have. So, come on. Let's hear it!

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><p>Rachel stirred gently, her feet flexing and her toes curling for a long, deep stretch. She sighed contently after releasing the muscles, bending her back a little to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders, too. Her eyes fluttered open as she moved to rest on her back, her arms stretching at her sides until she realized she was all alone. Her head lifted off the pillow and she looked around the room, her eyes eventually settling on the clock on the nightstand to her right. She already knew it wasn't extremely early given the amount of light shining in through the large windows on the sidewall, but it was still morning – and Saturday morning at that.<p>

She bit her lip, looking to the spot at her left. The covers were rumpled and there was definitely an indentation on the pillow, but Rachel couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that she'd dreamt the whole thing. It was a better scenario than the fact that, like she feared, maybe Puck just left sometime during the night. Last night had been amazing in almost every capacity, but that didn't mean it couldn't all come to a fiery end. She'd learned that once before. From _him_.

The smell of bacon invaded her senses, pushing out some of the anxiety floating in her stomach and replacing it with a mix of familiarity and queasiness. The latter was likely the result of her pregnancy, though it wouldn't be the first time the smell of dead animal carcass had caused her stomach to lurch. She quickly got out of bed and replaced the clothing that had been shed last night, managing not to blush only because she was frowning at the realization that she couldn't even pretend last night had been a dream. Her clothes were evidence to that fact, as was the broken vase right outside the door and the cracked picture frame that she saw sitting on the dining room table.

_Now_ she was blushing.

"Do you want three pieces or two?"

Rachel stopped dead in her tracks, ending up in earshot of the kitchen but out of sight. The question had come from her father Leroy, who she had planned to tease about cooking bacon in the first place. He'd succumbed to her subtle prodding last night and had cherries with her instead of the animal fat he'd no doubt come downstairs for – so he was due - but that didn't mean she'd let it go without a fight. Or she wouldn't if she was even thinking about the bacon outside of the fact that her dad Hiram didn't _eat_ bacon. So, really, there could only be one person Leroy was talking to.

"You put it in front of me and I'll eat it."

Her breath caught in her throat, hearing his rough but light voice. Her heart sped up, her eyes moving to the broken picture frame and instead smiling at the decoration's expense. It hadn't been a dream. Noah had showed up, and he'd said everything she'd been waiting to hear. They'd shared an amazing night and now he hadn't left, but was sitting in the kitchen with her fathers.

"That's what we've heard."

She probably should have realized the ramifications of Noah being sandwiched between her two very protective fathers beforehand. However, the entirely-too-innocent-sounding-to-be-innocent statement from Hiram quickly brought Rachel up to speed. Between everything Rachel had told her fathers about Noah and their relationship, not to mention the unplanned pregnancy and the _really_ unplanned late night visit that hadn't just been loud but destructive, she almost felt guilty about leaving him in there by himself. Almost.

"Yea, uh …" Puck trailed off, chuckling humorlessly while one hand swept over his scalp. "Not, like, anymore."

"How can …"

"Daddy," Rachel chastised lightly, finally stepping into view, her eyes passing over both her fathers to land on Puck. He looked relieved that she'd saved him, but when his eyes roamed her body she could also tell her was struggling to find the balance between being respectful and being … himself. She bit her lip in response, forcing her gaze again to Hiram. "It's too early for an interrogation."

"How did you sleep, sweetie?"

"Can I make you anything, dear?"

"Not in that pan," she responded quickly to Leroy's question, glaring at him with her nose scrunched up a little.

He chuckled softly, packing up the unused bacon even as he said, "Remember it's too early for an interrogation."

Rachel conceded with a laugh, taking the seat at the island counter Hiram had vacated. Her arm brushed against Noah's and she bit her lip again, the corners of her mouth turning up when he tilted his head toward her, a smirk of his own playing on his lips. The urge to kiss him was almost unbearable, and she'd started to lean in until her one father placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Noah and her other father cleared his throat to garner her attention.

"Your father and I need to drop off a check at the synagogue and then we're going to go to the park a little early to help set up for the picnic." Hiram's eyes moved from Rachel's to Noah's and then back again. "Did you … have your plans changed since yesterday?"

Rachel shook her head. "My flight leaves Monday morning, Daddy."

"OK." He bobbed his head, a smile crossing his face. "Good."

"We weren't sure if you would leave sooner now …" Leroy trailed off, looking between the younger couple then over at his partner, who jut shrugged. Leroy stuffed his mouth with a bite of eggs then shoved almost a whole piece of bacon inside, too. The silence in the room echoed for almost a full thirty seconds as he chewed. Clearly he was the only one brave enough to continue that conversation – or smart enough to change the subject. "Did you want to join us at the picnic now?"

"No, thank you." Rachel didn't know why she was blushing – okay, she did – but she tried to disguise it by keeping her voice calm and level. "I still plan to call Scott today to hopefully set up a meeting for when I return."

"Who's Scott?"

Leroy, Hiram, and Rachel moved their gaze to Puck, who almost choked on his food due to their dubious stares. He wracked his brain trying to remember if he _should_ know the name, but it wasn't ringing any bells. Granted he was still having trouble remembering which father was which; he'd settled for calling them both Mr. Berry in an effort to appear respectful instead of stupid.

"He's a very powerful producer in Broadway today," Rachel explained. "He called me a couple of weeks ago, offering me the chance to work on the music for a new adaptation he's starting."

"Sweet." Puck chewed the last of his food. "Are you gonna do it?"

Rachel blushed, feeling her fathers' questioning stares move from Puck to her. "I have a few more questions, and I would need to work out a proper schedule to give _Beauty and the Beast_ enough time to find a suitable replacement, but it is a wonderful opportunity."

"You're leavin' the show?"

"OK. I'll say it." Hiram raised his hand, exasperated. "Did you talk _at all_?"

Rachel's blushed deepened, her eyes moving to Leroy helplessly. While the black man was the logical one between the two, the one who was mainly used for intimidation and brute force, his relationship with Rachel was the classic father/daughter dynamic. He turned into a giant teddy bear with her and had been know for babying Rachel. He still spoiled her from time to time, but she was old enough now that he didn't get the option to baby her anymore. Now, however, was the perfect opportunity.

"It was late, dear," Leroy began. "I'm sure the kids have a lot of talking to do so we should probably get cleaned up and go run our errands before the picnic." Then he looked at Noah and Rachel pointedly. "I'm _sure_ they'll have everything sorted out by the time we get home this evening."

Puck gulped, nodding his head a fraction of an inch. Both fathers kissed Rachel on the cheek and then made their way upstairs. He had watched them walk away, his attention eventually moving back to the kitchen and noticing Rachel had gotten up and was rooting around in the cupboards. Her tank top rode up and exposed about an inch of honey skin, and Puck remembered exactly why they hadn't done as much conversing last night as they probably should have. Then again, he'd said a lot more shit than he'd ever had before so he figured he earned the resulting reward.

"Was last night a mistake?" She whispered, her hands clutching a box of granola. Slowly she turned around to face Puck, sighing when she saw his face had crumpled into a mix of anger and confusion. "I wish not to believe so, but perhaps the high dramatics of the grand romantic gesture clouded my judgment."

"English, please," he muttered, getting up from his seat because he suddenly couldn't keep still. He hid the anxiousness by putting his empty plate in the sink.

"It's not just me who will be hurt if you leave again this time."

It had been easier than he thought it would be to get her to forgive him, but clearly all was not forgotten; she still wasn't convinced he had changed, and instead of admitting that fear she was hiding behind their unborn child. "Look, dudes don't do that lovey dovey bullshit for chicks that don't matter." He uncrossed his arms and let his hands slip into the pockets of his slacks. "That guy wouldn't have held up that boombox for all eternity just to nail a chick. Like, legit, I've done some stupid ass stuff to get into a girl's pants, but I sure as shit haven't flown across the country."

"Ohio is hardly across the country," she pointed out quietly, processing his words.

"Well technically _I_ didn't fly."

Rachel rolled her eyes, a smile finally emerging and her eyes lifting up to focus on him. "You know, I've had a crush on John Cusack ever since I saw that movie."

"It was pretty badass." Puck shrugged, taking a step toward her. "And if I would have put more thought into this plan outside of coming here and finding you, I might have brought my guitar." He looked down at his outfit, business casual for breakfast. "And maybe some jeans."

Rachel giggled, taking a step of her own closer to him. He was within arms' reach, and even though they'd yet again avoided pinpointing any of the details of their union, she felt like they were making headway. If he wasn't going anywhere, then they presumably had the rest of their lives to figure it out. And while Rachel normally was the person who refused to have loose ends waving in the breeze, with Puck she didn't mind going with the flow.

"With what song would you have chosen to serenade me?"

"_In Your Eyes_ is too gay for my taste," he responded, noting her light scoff. She didn't move away, though, so he figured he was still in the clear. "I actually heard a song in the car last night that would have worked. The lyrics were sorta dead on."

Rachel stepped closer in interest, bringing herself deep into his personal space. "What was it?"

"I dunno." Puck smirked, seeing her excitement almost double when the conversation didn't just include music, but was now like a scavenger hunt. In the background he heard her fathers call out that they'd be back later in the evening and not to make any dinner plans, but in the forefront of his mind were those lyrics. "It was pretty pop-py and I almost turned it off, but the guy sang, 'It's not that I didn't care, it's that I didn't know.'"

"It's not what I didn't feel, it's what I didn't show," Rachel finished, her hands moving to rest on his chest. They stared at one another for a long moment, presumably saying all those things they kept talking around, and then sprung into action. In a blink of an eye, Rachel was lifted onto the island countertop, her tank top up and over her head the instant right after. She managed to pull his wifebeater off his body and undo his fly before each of his hands pressed hard into her lower back, pulling her center into him. She released his lips on a gasp, the quick inhale of oxygen released on a growl when he simply moved his lips to her neck.

Puck wasn't sure how it happened, but when Rachel started to fall back to lie on the top of the island counter, he followed her. It was fairly high and his hands had been busy ridding her of her pajama shorts, but somehow he made it on top of the surface and poised between her legs. He drove into her without warning, swallowing her satisfied yelp much like he had last night. It was the only similarity, however, because where last night had been slow and mostly tender, this encounter was all about need.

The rest of the weekend was very similar.

It was a blur of activity, with both Puck and Rachel often not remembering how they got from one place to another. Their free moments together were few and far between, which frustratingly only increased the need they had felt in the kitchen (and basically every time they were near each other) and the urgency of their actions. Her fathers took them to dinner on Saturday and they spent much of that time talking about Rachel's medical condition and how it may or may not affect the pregnancy – not exactly a mood setter. Sunday morning was spent at the synagogue with the young children learning about Judaism and the rest of the day had been dedicated to random family activities all while Leroy and Hiram drilled the couple for answers to all the burning questions.

Were they going to move in together? Whose place would they live in? Were they going to get married? How big would the ceremony be? Where would it be? When would they have it? What's the birth plan? If they didn't live together, how would they split up the responsibilities of raising their child? In the event of one or both of their demises, who would get custody of the child? Did they each have an up-to-date will? Did they have a living will? Were they financially stable? How would they handle the finances that come along with parenthood?

By the time they boarded the plane to head back to New York, the sheer volume of unanswered questions was weighing heavily on the pair. But, for Rachel, none more so than the one question that had been circling around in her mind (if she was being honest with herself) all weekend. It was the one that all the others were dependent on, and the only one that seemed to matter for their immediate future. And, as they walked out of the arrival terminal on Monday morning and headed toward baggage claim, she couldn't help but focus on the _immediate_ part. After all, they were almost to the exact moment it all went to hell last time, and she couldn't help but wonder if history would repeat itself.

"Ya'okay?"

Rachel nodded absently, her eyes scanning the carousel for her bag. Desperately she wanted everything to be fine, but no matter how much they'd talked this weekend she couldn't help but feel nervous the closer they got to the end of the trip. For how much she hated it growing up, Ohio seemed like a safe zone lately, especially when it came to her and Puck. She wasn't ready to leave the bubble they had resided in for the past few days, and she certainly wasn't prepared to see the bubble pop.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

It wasn't the first time he'd asked that question, nor was it the first time she'd given the same answer. He'd noticed that she'd been extremely quiet all morning, the exuberance and bubbly personality from the weekend dissipating more and more since leaving Ohio. Puck figured she was just sad about leaving her dads, who he had to admit were pretty cool; he'd always avoided dads because growing up in Ohio usually meant they were armed, but Rachel's dads were an awesome mix of business and pleasure, asking tons of questions but totally understanding and supportive of the fact that he/they didn't have answers for all of them. Now, though, as he walked alongside her to get her bag, he sensed her melancholy was a result of something worse. And while he'd like to blame the important meeting she had with that Scott guy tomorrow, he got the feeling the finger pointing should start with him.

"That little girl over there is legit jealous over your bag," he commented lightly as he grabbed the bright pink suitcase and placed it on the ground in front of them.

"I think her jealousy stems from you standing next to me and less about the bag." She managed a small smile, pushing the button on the top of the suitcase to free the retractable handle. She curled her fingers around it, forcing the bag onto its wheels before looking up at him apprehensively. "So … I'll talk to you later?"

Puck furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her a little more intensely. He could almost see the anxiety floating around in her eyes, and imagined the same feeling was rolling through her stomach. It sort of surprised him that he knew her so well, but right then he was more focused on how little she seemed to know him. At least that's how it felt if she _still_ was expecting him to bail.

"You ain't getting rid of me that easily, Berry." He shooed her hand away from the handle of the suitcase, grabbing the plastic lever while his other arm lifted up to rest across her shoulders. "So let's go to lunch 'cause I'm starvin'."

Rachel blinked in surprise, her feet moving just to keep up with his sudden movement, but her brain wasn't as fast. She couldn't process how quickly everything had changed. "And what if I'm not hungry?"

"Tough." He smirked, seeing her smile break. "And, P.S., that's my kid in there so you're gonna need to feed it more than rabbit food if you want it to survive." Rachel's hands subconscious moved to her stomach, caressing the flat surface lovingly. "You're probably gonna need to start takin' a protein supplement."

"You're not my doctor anymore," she teased, stopping along with him outside as they waited in line for their turn to get a cab.

"Fuck that noise. Dr. Loser isn't scammin' on my girl."

"I honestly doubt his examinations would be anything less than professional, _unlike some people_."

"Whatever. Guy's a perv and he can legit keep his fat fingers out of you."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well now I'm _really_ not hungry."

"Really? Ya'okay?"

Rachel knitted her eyebrows, shaking her head a little when Puck's expression didn't change from its sudden concern. Perhaps he didn't know when he crossed the line because he couldn't even see it. That would certainly explain his rash behavior, not to mention the off-the-cuff remarks and brutal honesty. And while she'd initially found his remarks to be crude and vile, now that she knew him and knew the underlying emotions that often caused said abrasiveness – protectiveness, usually – she found his attitude to be almost endearing.

Especially when it seemed like only _she_ could provoke the bulk of those unfamiliar feelings.

"I was just thinking," she began quietly, her shoulder lifting up emptily while she leaned in a bit closer, "we could skip lunch and head straight for … dessert."

Puck groaned, her coy but seductive tone shooting right through him. "Fuck, I love you."

He yanked her to the closest cab and sprouted off his address quickly. His hands were incessant in their limited exploration and his lips were equally feverish, and Rachel was worried the cabby might be in for a show. But, what she wasn't worried about, was how this time would be different. Because even though the sentiment had come out rather casually, she knew their relationship now was anything but.


	31. Epilogue: Tale As Old As Time

**Author's Note:** First thing is first, I have to express my gratitude for all the support on this story. It was incredible and I hope y'all tell me what you think of this very last piece. I got a lot of prompts/ideas last update and I'm going to see if I can do at least a few of them, but who knows. Maybe I'll actually go outside instead of spending all day and night in front of the computer. LOL!

I also need to take a second to say that I didn't give Maroon 5 props last update for the bit of lyrics I had Rachel and Puck utter, so my bad. They were from the song "Misery" and are not mine. Don't sue. Also, to that effect, there are lyrics/dialogue in this epilogue taken from the musical _Beauty and the Beast_. Don't sue for that either. To Jann, thanks for helping me with the end of this when I was about to claw my eyes out - sorry the end keeps getting ruined for ya. And, lastly, this epilogue is sort of done in a new way for me, so I hope you like it even if it might not be what you expected. *bites nails nervously*

Other than that, just another huge THANKS and ENJOY!

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><p>Rachel walked away from backstage in a huff, practically stomping her feet on her way back to her seat - front row center. The director had <em>some<em> nerve telling her to go sit down. Honestly, did he not know who she was? If she was back there, she could _help_. After all, she had more experience than everyone back there _combined_. They should be _honored_ to have her in the audience, not to mention beyond gracious when she'd offered to provide her expertise and insight. Talk about a once in a lifetime opportunity!

"Back so soon?" Kurt teased, unafraid of the death stare she tossed him as she sat next to him. Blaine, who was in the spot next to Kurt, managed a half-hearted slap to his partner's arm. Kurt turned to Blaine and they did that telekinesis thing they had perfected years ago, managing to have an entire conversation without opening their mouths.

"I'm sure the director simply has a lot on his plate right now, Rach." She immediately opened her mouth in rebuttal to Blaine's comment, but he talked over her. "It's going to start in just a few minutes so there's really nothing you can do to improve the performances."

"Unless you plan to go up there and reprise your role as Belle."

"Don't be ridiculous." She crossed her arms over her chest in exasperation.

"Yea. Rachel's short but she can't pass for a first grader," Finn chimed in. His wide, goofy grin didn't halt Rachel's scoff of disapproval, but it did manage to make the others laugh a little harder.

"That was not my point." She scowled at Finn from over her shoulder, turning her attention back to Kurt and Blaine. "I'm not worried about Belle. It's the _rest_ of the characters."

"Rachel as Gaston. Now that might make this stupid night worth it," Santana muttered, settling deeper into the plush theater seat, her arms and legs crossed so tightly that her usual FUCK OFF aura was as tangible as the Xeroxed program in everyone's hands. "Where's Puckerman?"

"Why?" Rachel stated defensively.

"Well he's the only one who knows how to get you to shut your trap for more than two seconds."

Rachel clenched her jaw, moments away from throwing her breathing exercises right out the window and attacking the Latina. She wasn't even sure why Santana was here, other than the fact that Rachel had invited almost everyone she knew. In fact, at her urging, her fathers were coming in tomorrow just for the show and leaving again Sunday morning. Rachel couldn't help it; she was beyond excited.

It was her daughter's first time playing the lead in a musical.

"It's one part tongue, two part hands." Puck winked, tossing a bag of Skittles toward the Latina.

"Noah," Rachel chastised softly. "How many times must I remind you that this is not the appropriate venue for such humor?"

"Tonight?" He pretended to think about it, earning another admonishment. Luckily the lights in the auditorium flashed and distracted Rachel enough that she let him off the hook. Her shoulders squared straight toward the stage, her eyes dancing around in preparation for the curtain being raised. She shushed Santana and Brittany without even diverting her attention, but she couldn't ignore it when Puck sat down and leaned into her personal space.

"This is not the appropriate venue for _that_ either."

"We did it at _your _musical," he reminded in rapid fire, his head dipping down so his nose brushed away some of her hair. His lips found the sensitive skin of the nape of her neck, Rachel tilting her head down in a subconscious attempt to bring her lips closer to his. This wasn't his first rodeo, and he quickly claimed her mouth with his own. He thrust his tongue inside, tasting the subtle hint of honey he still could detect after all these years.

"Do you guys need to suck face _everywhere_?"

Puck broke away from Rachel slowly, his eyes trailing away from her face to look over his shoulder at his sister. Back when she was younger he would have hit her or at least called her a name, but as had been pointed out already this really wasn't the right place for that type of behavior. Besides, Sarah was so pregnant that she could very well pop under the lightest of hits, and he wasn't going to take that chance. He wasn't her doctor – how weird would that be? – but he still didn't want to have to deal with all the drama. Or, rather, any _more_ drama.

"Yep," he finally answered, a smirk playing on his face. "And just remember we did a lot more than that in the place you currently call home."

"Noah!" Sarah and Rachel bemoaned simultaneously, the latter slapping him in the arm while his sister smacked him across the back of his head.

He was suddenly not looking forward to his mother visiting tomorrow; thankfully she would be staying with Sarah, but Puck was pretty sure if she managed to annoy him all the way from Ohio then she'd be able to up the ante being only a few blocks away. "I'm just sayin'."

"Well please _stop _saying." Rachel shook her head lightly. "Our daughter's show is about to begin."

"I'm pretty sure _our_ daughter has a line or two, as well," Kurt mumbled, rolling his eyes and lifting up the camcorder just as the lights dimmed.

The familiar xylophone chords in the first scene of _Beauty and the Beast_ began, the stage lights shining brightly on a tiny castle prop. The spotlight honed in on a young boy playing the Prince and then another followed the young girl playing the beggar woman. In the background, one of the adult assistants was narrating the scene, the two kids reacting to his words while on the sidelines a handful of other assistants and crew could be seen. It wasn't exactly of Broadway caliber, but Rachel and Puck couldn't help the look they shared when the narrator uttered the last line of the beginning.

_For who could ever learn to love a Beast?_

It was a question the couple had encountered more than once since that first doctor visit. Six years later, it was a concept they'd each applied to the other and still commonly thought about self-deprecatingly. After all the problems they had at the beginning of their relationship, no one thought they'd make it as far as they had – sometimes including them. Admitting they loved each other and deciding to be together had only been the beginning. The truth was Puck still had never been in a serious relationship, and Rachel had been in the middle of a lot of different and new situations.

They knew they wanted to be together, but they weren't quite sure how to do it. They'd already done almost everything backward up until that point, so there was no playbook to follow, no right or wrong path to travel down. Puck and Rachel had been forced to make it all up as they went, and while it was working out so far, there were some obvious mistakes made along the way. For instance, pretending they had all the time in the world to figure everything out had backfired, resulting in a Rachel Berry rant epic in proportion and velocity. It all happened while baby clothes shopping with Sarah and Mercedes, and ended with Puck having to leave the office and convince Rachel that he wanted her to move in. She, of course, didn't believe him until he took her back to his place and showed her how he'd decked out the spare bedroom into a nursery. Being eight months pregnant and just plain Rachel, though, she'd called him insensitive for forcing his sister to sleep on his couch.

She had eventually agreed (persuaded was probably a better word) to move in, which was how Sarah ended up staying in Rachel's place. Even after the baby had been born, Puck and Rachel were still too concerned with appearing ambivalent about their future. Since Rachel's apartment was in a wonderful building in a wonderful location at a rent-controlled price, they continued to pay for both places. Sarah was staying in New York since she'd gotten an internship at the advertising firm where Blaine worked, so it made sense for her to live in the available space – it didn't make sense that Puck had paid to have Rachel's living room furniture and bed moved to his place while his went to hers, but he had demanded it nonetheless. It had actually been the catalyst to the fight Rachel and Puck had right before he had proposed.

As a wedding gift, Sarah had agreed to start paying for her own rent, which coincided nicely with her promotion inside the firm – otherwise Puck and Rachel probably could have expected a partially used gift card to Best Buy or something. Instead, she was making fairly good money doing work that she absolutely loved. She did a lot of the mockups and storyboards for the internal departments, but she also had some national work done for various magazines and bulletin boards. And, through a mixture of hanging out with Blaine at work and being close to Rachel, Sarah eventually got to know Finn pretty well.

It was an arrangement that hadn't gone smoothly, mostly because the two had tried to keep it a secret. Unfortunately, Kurt's ear for gossip only seemed to get stronger with age, and he'd quickly spilled the beans to everyone – or everyone _except_ Puck. They all knew he would freak out and while the jokes about Puck kicking Finn's ass _again_ were pretty funny, the fact that they were also _true_ sobered the group up enough that they knew they needed a plan. Part of the plan, however, was _not_ for Puck to find Sarah and Finn making out in the bathroom at a party. Whether Kurt and Blaine's little girl, Charlotte, wanted her uncle Finn to have a black eye or not for her birthday, he got one.

That was two years ago, at Charlotte's fourth birthday party. Kurt and Blaine were picked as adoptive parents by a domestic couple from Ohio, who Kurt and Blaine visited whenever they were in town visiting Kurt's family. Charlotte was the name of Blaine's mother, who had passed away when Blaine was only twelve. Their daughter's middle name, Coco, was Kurt's choice and one made for much less touching reasons. They still lived in SoHo, though they had bought the apartment next to them and tore down the wall to make a much larger living space. Kurt left the musical shortly after they were chosen to be parents, and he actually started a clothing line a few years ago. At first it had been for baby girls, but now he was simply using Charlotte as inspiration and continuously updating his selection as she grew up.

And they were _all_ growing up. Puck and Rachel's daughter and Charlotte were the same age, in the same first grade class together. Hanna was ten now and attending a private school focused on performance arts as well as a special afterschool program where she learned about Asian culture. She was still very close with Lucy, who was nine, and SJ, who had just barely turned twelve, both of whom went to the same school in Brooklyn where Quinn taught. Sarah was due any second with her and Finn's first child, who the group was thankful was going to be a boy because they needed some testosterone; everyone agreed Kurt didn't really count (even Kurt).

Santana and Brittany were still together, but they had no plans for kids. They made the big leap into exclusivity a few years ago, but it was sort of a formality considering they were both freaks in the bedroom. Apparently it was okay to kiss/sleep with other people as long as the other was involved. Puck had tried to argue the same logic to Rachel, but it hadn't gone over as well. In fact, it had been another one of those big mistakes that had only been repaired because a week later Sam and Quinn filed for divorce. While Puck had (jokingly) asked about engaging in extra-marital activity, Quinn hadn't. Again.

Sam ended up leaving Brooklyn and working at the school Finn had transferred to in the city the few years beforehand. They buried the hatchet and became pretty good friends, though Puck banned Finn from coming to the weekly Friday night dinners after he found out about him and Sarah. It hadn't lasted long considering Rachel had chewed his ear off for _that_, too, but it was the principle of the matter. Besides, the boys' nights kind of died down in intensity over the years anyway, and really became bi-weekly once Sam and Quinn arranged an ideal custody settlement that left him with the kids every other weekend.

_Let the world be done with me_.

"God, I couldn't have said it better myself," Santana muttered, up out of her seat before the lights even came on and the curtain lowered for intermission. "Come on, Brit. Let's try to salvage the next fifteen minutes of our lives."

"Please, _please_ don't have sex in the restrooms, Santana."

"I was just going to poke my eyes out, but smooth thinking, Shorty."

Rachel watched Santana and Brittany ease their way out of the aisle, heading toward the back and, unfortunately, in the direction of the bathrooms. Honestly, after six years, she should know better. Talking to Santana was precisely like talking to Puck … or a two-year-old. If she said not to do something, it was the exact thing they would do. It was a compulsion.

"Charlotte is doing an amazing job as Mrs. Potts," Mercedes remarked. "Glad to see she took my notes to heart."

Mercedes had stayed at _Beauty and the Beast_ for a couple of years after Kurt and Rachel both left. She worked on a few small projects and toured for a year in a traveling show before landing one of the leads in an off-Broadway production of the infamous musical _The Wiz_. She'd been in the same role for the past two years, and she was expected to be a contender for a Tony nomination in the coming year. Professionally she was on fire, and her love life had started a slow burn last year that was growing hotter and hotter as time went on. It was the classic story of friends of friends, but Mercedes and Sam actually had a lot in common and they meshed really well together.

"I just can't believe they're so young." Sam looked at SJ and Lucy. "Sorry, kids, but the first show you guys did for school was _nothing_ compared to this."

"Oh, Samuel …" Rachel shook her head, expressing her sympathy to the children, both of whom looked bored out of their minds. "This isn't just a _school play_, though. This is a specialized production for advanced young people."

"Yea, suck it, Evans. My kid's advanced."

"We're gonna go get some snacks," Mercedes stated quickly, not letting the men start trading barbs. Like Rachel, she was getting pretty good at corralling trouble. "Anyone want anything?"

For whatever reason – or rather a very particular reason – everyone looked at Finn. "What? I just ate."

"That don't mean shit," Puck looked over his shoulder at the tall man, his eyes moving to his sister. "For either of you right now."

"Fat jokes? You really wanna go there?" Sarah sized up her brother. "We're probably equal weight now, so bring it."

"Both of you cool it," Rachel pointed a finger at each of them, used to having to treat them like children when they were around each other. "Or I'll tell Leah and Elliot about how you misbehaved."

Finn groaned loudly, sinking deep into his seat, his knees hitting the back of Rachel's chair. "I can't believe your parents are gonna be in tomorrow. And they're staying a whole week!"

"Got somethin' against Ma, Ogre?"

Finn finished running a frustrated hand through his the short strands of his hair, shaking his head in response before solemnly answering, "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Sarah confirmed before Puck could comment. "She hates that you aren't Jewish."

"And knockin' up her _young _daughter out of wedlock didn't help."

"You're one to talk," Finn sneered, the two men staring hard at one another. While they'd passed the stage in their relationship where the only thing they exchanged was punches and verbal attacks, the two would never be friends. Puck didn't just know that Finn was sleeping with his sister, but he was also aware that the giant had once tried to sleep with Rachel. "And why do you always have to bring up our age difference? I'm not that much older."

"I suppose intellectually you are the same age."

"Can you two please stop being so petty and talk about something important." She paused for only a quick breath. "Didn't Caroline look absolutely amazing up there?"

The group laughed at Rachel's expense, loving what she considered to be something important and completely not petty. While some had known her longer, it didn't take _anyone_ six years to understand how Rachel Berry operated. Blaine had actually been the one to coin her group nickname, calling her a hummingbird – Kurt had added the _on crack_ whenever it was deemed appropriate. After she'd left the musical to work with Scott on the new adaptation, she was offered more of the same positions, which she did all while balancing her new role as mother and then her newest role as wife. She also branched out and wrote songs for popular artists, and even took her hand at writing an entire musical production. She volunteered with Puck at the synagogue with a different group of Jewish children, she attended social events at Caroline's school and hosted parties for the parents or just their friends, and she also managed to start a fitness group with other mothers in town.

Hummingbird only came up because Santana had already claimed Robot.

"Watching this production is really bringing everything back. I almost forgot all the nuances of the story," she commented absently, having no idea that everyone was wondering if there was a tranquillizer nearby. "Remember when …"

"Do we have to do this at every show?"

Rachel scoffed. "No, but when it is _Beauty and the Beast_ it is a bit more obvious."

Puck rolled his eyes, following the trail Kurt and Blaine took. He wished he could just get up and leave like them, or like Sarah and Finn had a minute ago. But now they were all alone and he knew better to leave Rachel by herself. Plus they were taking up almost row full rows of premium seats and little Rachel wouldn't be able to hold everyone off by herself.

"Do you think she's a better Belle than I am?"

Puck blinked. "How can I honestly answer that question?"

"You can't," she smirked. "I was just curious to see if you would try."

Puck chuckled, tossing his right arm back across the top of her seat, using his hand to pull her closer to him. Her head rested in the crook of his neck, her lips occasionally puckering to drop soft kisses on the smooth skin above the collar. Desire pulsated through him at her touch but he ignored it, something he had learned to do over the years even though he didn't _always_ have to. Everything Puck feared about settling down seemingly didn't apply to Rachel. He did have to listen to her talk a lot more than he had to before and there were of course arguments that had to be settled instead of pushed aside, but the give and take was definitely worth it.

Puck didn't even have a problem with the Puck/Noah dilemma anymore, mostly because it turned out that there were many different sides to him. Rachel didn't particularly _like_ all of them – shares-too-much-information drunk guy was her least favorite – but she did _love_ them all. She had an amazing ability to find the good in everything, and that included him. And with that kind of support, Puck was able to quiet all the demons wrestling in his head and instead focus on balancing his life instead of himself – Rachel already did that; they balanced each other.

He'd proposed to Rachel two weeks after Caroline was born. It was the end of February and freezing outside, but he'd stood out on the front balcony of their apartment with an old-fashioned boombox lifted high above his head. He'd opted for Maroon 5's "Misery" and got his answer in a fiery kiss that ended up with them shedding clothes despite the chilly temperature. They'd gotten married in a traditional Jewish ceremony by the lake in Lima less than six months later, just a little more than a year after the first time they had visited.

"When I was watchin' you it was with the intention that I was gonna get laid." Puck looked around in mock sternness. "Sure as shit better not be anyone in here thinkin' _that_."

Rachel lifted her head off his shoulder, looking at him with a careful mix of amusement and disdain. "Must you always use that kind of language, Noah?"

"Gettin' you hot?" He leered, resulting in the humor to leave her eyes completely. She opened her mouth to refute his accusation, but the lights flashed to warn people the show would be starting again and then a voice came over the sound system. Whoever was speaking announced that the concessions table would close after intermission as would the raffle, and then there was a special announcement stating that there was _real_ Broadway alum in the audience this evening.

Rachel beamed once the applause started, standing from her seat so quickly that Puck felt the rush of wind skim across his side. Mercedes waved from one side of the theater, her other hand holding onto Lucy, and Kurt waved from the other, where he'd been backstage with Blaine. There had been three others who stood, all of whom Rachel recognized but was not impressed by. She reclaimed her front row center seat, her eyes moving to Puck when she felt his intense stare.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he lied, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek before turning his attention back toward the stage. It was an uncommon gesture – gentle wasn't usually in his repertoire when it came to Rachel – but one that she reciprocated with a seductive squeeze to his inner thigh. He chuckled, already lost in thoughts about how much things had changed – including _them_. Rachel wasn't working on Broadway anymore, and even though she adored the spotlight and he'd feared she'd made the decision to leave it because of what had happened, Rachel had never been happier than when she was with Caroline. She was a natural as a mother, and gave him the confidence to be a pretty decent father.

It hadn't been easy at first. Puck had fallen in love with his daughter instantly and would have loved to just drop everything to be with her all the time, but he had to work. One of the doctors at the office had left and Puck had taken much of that workload onto himself. A year later another doctor left to start his own practice, and Puck was asked to become a partner. It had been the plan before; he'd pay his dues and then sign as partner and start living the sweet life. But, between the extra hours and the added obligations, the perks weren't enough to keep him from home. It was so domesticated and he'd barely been able to get it out when he was discussing his decision with Rachel, but he _missed_ them. Like, legit, all the time.

How pathetic was that?

"How did Ching and Chong get out of this nightmare on Elm Street?" Santana asked abruptly, falling back into her chair behind them.

"They're comin' tomorrow. Somethin' about Hanna and dancing …"

"It's wonderful to hear just how well you listen when your closest friends talk." Rachel rolled her eyes, turning back to Santana. "Tina has a book signing tonight."

"I still can't believe she's writing now," Sam remarked when SJ and Lucy were both content in their seats with their snacks. "But I guess if they really aren't having another kid, then …"

"Don't' sound so surprised. That shit's illegal where they come from."

"Pennsylvania?"

"China." Puck shook his head. "It's bad enough they had a girl."

"Noah," Rachel admonished quietly, rolling her eyes. "They aren't Chinese."

He looked dumbfounded long enough that everyone got a good laugh in before the curtain started to rise and Act II began. He'd wanted to tease her in return, maybe point out that _Michael_ wasn't Chinese but Asian American. Despite the conversation they had all those years ago and the subsequent one between his good friend and her later, Rachel still slipped up from time to time and called him that; Puck wasn't sure what her fascination was with using people's proper first names. It was one of many things he didn't understand about her, though, so he didn't give it too much thought.

Instead his thought process moved from the adult version of Rachel to the miniature version on stage. On the surface, Caroline was exactly like Rachel. She had sleek brown hair that framed her face and hit the middle of her back. Her smile was wide and bright, and her eyes were a deep brown that seriously held too much power within them. She had the same olive skin as both her parents, and she put all her energy (which was_ a lot) _into singing and dancing and performing. To outsiders, it was hard to see Puck in Caroline outside the deviant little smirk she had, but he was _definitely_ her father.

When she was only one, Caroline had learned how to successfully escape her crib, doing so often at night. She wasn't disruptive in her rebellion, though; she simply went to the living room and played with her toys. Rachel and Puck would find her asleep on the floor in the mornings. They were also forced to potty train her early because she refused to wear her diaper. Rachel didn't find the humor in Puck's references to _going commando_ being a Puckerman trait. Nor did she think it was funny last year when they had to meet with the director at the preschool because Caroline kept turning off the classroom's television and refusing to watch the movie. It ended up being Rachel's fault, though, as Caroline had proclaimed that life was meant to be lived, not watched.

Plain and simple, she was the perfect balance of Puck and Rachel. She was ambitious and smart, but she was also mischievous and curious. She was logical but had a temper. She was funny like Rachel in that she was animated, but she also loved practical jokes like Puck. Her favorite color was purple, but she preferred classic rock over kids music. She was charming like her father, but knew how to work and audience like her mother, whether that audience was her parents, her friends, or the group of people in the crowd tonight.

"You have that face again," Rachel whispered, leaning closer to Puck even though her eyes were on the stage. Currently it was the fight scene between Gaston and the Beast, which didn't just mean the end was near but that their daughter would be on stage again very soon.

"Ever think that's just my face?" She tore her eyes away from the stage, flashing him a pointed look before putting some of her attention back on the musical. He sighed, wishing that wasn't enough to get him to talk. "I was thinkin' …" He trailed off, taking a deep breath before leaning closer so his mouth brushed right against her ear. "We should do it again."

Rachel leaned back enough that she could focus on his eyes, seeing in them the very emotion she hadn't been expecting but the one she'd been looking for. He wasn't talking about sex; they'd showered together this morning so there shouldn't have been a need for him to have the urge to take her in a public place (outside of the urge always being there) regardless. He was talking about something much bigger, something she'd been considering for the past year but hadn't brought up for a number of reasons. Something that made her heart race and her mind almost completely forget the fact that their daughter's first musical was coming to an end.

_Two lives have begun now  
>Two hearts become one now<br>One passion, one dream  
>One thing forever true<br>I love you!  
><em>

"Now?" She questioned softly, a smile playing on her lips.

Puck chuckled quietly, lifting one shoulder up emptily. "Well, practice makes perfect."

She managed a bemused expression before leaning in to pass her lips over his. It was a soft kiss that didn't last longer than a few seconds, but it held a lot of promise. The same could be said for their future, which as they both looked forward to watch the end of the musical they couldn't help but think about. They'd each spent a good portion of the night thinking about the past, and now it was hard to ignore what was coming next. And maybe it wouldn't have a big finale with a large song and dance number, but then again it probably shouldn't.

After all, it wasn't the end, but rather just the beginning.

_Certain as the sun  
>Rising in the east<br>Tale as old as time  
>Song as old as rhyme<br>Beauty and the Beast.  
><em>


End file.
